A Distant Wood
by wildpeace
Summary: AU. A cold day in New York City, a chance meeting. Tike.
1. Chapter 1

Title: A Distant Wood

Author: katymoonbeam/wildpeace

Summary: AU. A cold day in New York City, a chance meeting. **Tike. **

Rating: M.

A/N: Inspired by Asian F, and the premise of Mike never living his dream, and becoming a doctor instead. Spawned from there, with many hours of headcanon and rambling. This fic is entirely dedicated to my Maple Leaf, because it wouldn't have been written without her. She is the Britbrit to my 'Tana, the bacon to my Quinn, the Pimp to my Rutherford. Couldn't have done it without you ML! xx

I hope you enjoy. Comments and crit always welcome.

xXx

If Tina's learned two things since moving to New York it's this: very rarely does a peaceful protest remain peaceful, and if people start throwing stuff on fire, you run.

"Shit!" she almost looses her footing on the rain-slick sidewalk, and can hear glass smashing behind her. In the distance she can see a familiar head of pink hair duck into an alleyway, and she tries to run in the same general direction but there's all kinds of chaos and people are screaming. She knows Kurt and Blaine are somewhere – they'd come to the protest with her ("You think I'm going to stand back why they try and overturn Gay Marriage?") – but she hasn't seen them since everything went to hell.

"Tina!" she can hear her name being shouted over the melee but when she tries to crane her neck over the jostling crowds she can't see any familiar faces. "Tina!"

She curses again, trying to fight her way towards the sounds, through the throngs of people and through the storm, but as she's pushing past a guy with long dreadlocked hair a surge seems to storm her way and she gets shoulder-checked – hard – and thrown to the floor. Her hand hits the curb with a bang that makes her yelp and clutch it to her chest, and she curls up her body to protect herself from the clattering footsteps. She feels a heavy boot (damn those steel toe-caps) collide with the side of her head and it makes her feel instantly nauseous as she pushes herself back towards the edge of the building, looking for some kind – _any kind _of shelter. Collapsing against the cold brick, she brings a hand up to her forehead, and when she pulls it back her fingers are bright red and sticky and her vision swims.

"F-fuck," she stammers, and just about manages to push herself up right, clutching to the smooth wall with her one good hand. Hunched over – wary of projectiles and flying fists – she creeps along the wall, blinking blood out of her eyes and wondering how her supposedly 'peaceful protest' of an afternoon had turned into this.

She really should never listen to Quinn Fabray.

Xxx

"I'm _f-fine," _she insists as the two strong pairs of arms wrap around her torso, stopping her swaying from the dimly lit platform and falling onto the subway lines. Electrocution wouldn't be a great end to her day.

Her roommate frowns at her, his brow furrowed and his normally pristine hair rumpled, and his tone laced with frustration and worry. "Tina, when you're missing looking me in the eye by practically a _foot, _you're not fine. And you're still bleeding all over Blaine."

Tina just scoffs. "It's b-barely a scratch. H-heads always b-bleed a lot."

Blaine doesn't look particularly perturbed as he dabs at Tina's temple with his handkerchief, but his words make her frown at him. "I think Kurt's right. You took a pretty good knock and you might need stitches."

She practically growls at him, and even though it's mostly drowned out by the rattling of the oncoming train, it makes him shrug his shoulders, squeezing her tighter. "Better safe than sorry."

"Settled," Kurt insists as he drags Tina onto the train, forcing her into a seat and then sandwiching her between his own body and his boyfriend's. "We're taking you to the ER."

"I don't n-need the ER," she argues, trying to smack him in the thigh, but it makes her wrist throb and she hisses in pain. Kurt and Blaine share an 'I-told-you-so' look over the top of her turquoise-streaked head and she pretends not to notice, instead settling into her seat with a scowl.

Kurt just elbows her in the ribs. "Stop slouching. It makes you look homeless."

Xxx

The ER is busy and crowded; a baby is crying in the row behind Tina and two older women are having a rapid, loud conversation in heated Spanish with a nurse at the desk as one of them waves a printed sheet of paper around and the other clutches her heart and moans, dramatically. Tina feels about five minutes away from throwing up on her favourite Dr. Marten boots and all the noise is making her head *ache*. Her wrist throbs in time to her heartbeat and she clutches it closer to her chest, trying to be subtle about the shift because otherwise she knows Kurt is going to give her his 'I told you so' look again, and she's just not sure she can handle that much snark right now.

Tina can just feel herself slipping into a doze against Blaine's shoulder when suddenly 'Last of the American Girls' begins blaring out from her pocket and she jolts upright with a curse.

She's half-fumbled the phone to her ear - irritated with herself for shoving it into her left pocket now she has to try and reach across her own body to pull it out - when a voice cuts through the noise.

"Hey, excuse me? Ma'am? You can't use that in here."

As Tina looks up she sees the same Latina nurse – high ponytail, cocked hip, purple scrubs somehow made to look flattering and chic on a tanned and toned body – pointing at the large sign plastered on the wall. An obvious cell phone with a bright red cross through it. Tina's kind of amazed she didn't notice it earlier.

"I'll t-take this outside," Tina begins, trying to pull herself to standing, but she barely makes it halfway up before her knees buckle and her head spins and she finds herself pitching forwards. "Whoa…"

One strong pair of hands wraps around her upper arms and she closes her eyes tightly to stop the walls moving around her; Blaine's maroon sweater just feels really nice against her cheek so she thinks maybe she'll just rest her head there for a minute. She feels the phone being plucked out of her fingers. "You're not going anywhere," Kurt orders, his tone bossy but concerned. "Not until a doctor has made sure you didn't lose too many brain cells back there, okay?"

She's vaguely nodding – _ow, _that isn't the best idea right now – and Blaine's hand is running up and down her back and she can feel his chuckle against her cheek more than hear it when her phone starts ringing again. Tina cracks open one eye, and pulls her lip between her teeth. "Sh-she'll be w-worried," she stammers, feeling guilt bubbling inside her, and it must show on her face because Kurt heaves a sigh and picks up his jacket from where he had spread it out on the uncomfortable plastic waiting room seats.

"_Fine," _he huffs, pointing towards the exit. "I will take this call and tell that friend of yours exactly where her protest has left you. But you - " he pokes Tina's shoulder gently, making her pout. "Don't move until the doctor calls you, and _you – " _he leans over and presses a chaste kiss against Blaine's cheek. "Don't let her."

Blaine responds with a cheeky salute as he continues to hold Tina upright, and then Kurt's disappearing out the doors and there's still _so much _noise; Tina's trying to bury her head in Blaine's chest (careful of her wound because _fuck _that hurts) and she can feel his lips press against the top of her hair. "Poor Soldier Girl," he teases, his voice gently amused and crooning in the same way it does when she's woken up by him singing Tom Jones in the shower. "Should have known you'd get broken at one of these things sooner or later."

Her only response is to pinch his side, which makes him yelp and laugh and squeeze her tighter, and she's about to form a witty retort (she's sure it doesn't usually take so much effort) when finally she hears her name being called.

"Tina Cohen?"

"Cohen-_Chang," _Blaine automatically corrects for Tina as he helps her move through the crowds and towards the same pony-tailed nurse who had called her name. The nurse holds a clipboard in her hands and arches a perfectly plucked eyebrow towards her hairline.

"My mistake," she says almost curtly, but with a slightly quirked smile that seems to soften the words. "Let me get you set up over here and the doctor'll be right in, okay?" Something about the woman screams to Tina that she could cut her to ribbons with only the scantest of effort, but when she reaches out and cups Tina's elbow – helping her towards the curtained area, and then up onto one of the ubiquitous exam beds – her touch is soft and gentle and caring. "You think you're going to be sick?"

Tina's not honestly sure, because her stomach's rolling, but as long as she keeps one eye screwed shut the nausea isn't quite as overwhelming. "I'm okay," she half shrugs, one shoulder up, but even that movement makes the acrid taste of bile creep up her throat.

The nurse seems to recognise this though, because she just reaches over – knowingly – and passes Blaine an emesis basin. "Just in case," she tells him with a wink. "I'll be right back so we can get some information before the doctor comes. Hang tight and if you need anything just yell for Nurse Lopez, okay?"

XxX

Tina's not sure she's ever answered so many questions about her inner organs or childhood diseases in her whole life, and she feels frustration building because it's not like this is an episode of _House _and they're trying to figure out some hidden, mystery virus – she has a three inch cut to her head and a wrist slowly turning black and blue. Blaine is sitting next to her, forever patient and polite, his hand rubbing over her back in slow, rhythmic circles the same way she sees him do for Kurt when a deadline looms and stress begins to mount. It's sweet, even if it is making her feel seasick.

She breathes in through her nose and out, steadily, through her mouth. Her fingers pick at her turquoise pantyhose that ripped when she fell, trying to avoid the blossoming bruise underneath.

She's kind of glad in a way that it's Blaine with her instead of Kurt, because if Kurt was there he'd be worried and pacing, and talking a mile a minute because she _knows _how much he hates hospitals. Between his Mom's illness and death, and then his Dad's heart attack, and then everything when they were in High School, it just brings back too many bad memories. And if he was there with her he'd be bitching and snarking just to cover up his unease. Blaine, on the other hand, is quite happy to wait quietly, save the soft humming under his breath that she's honestly not sure he even realises he's doing. It's oddly comforting.

Tina's just being lulled again into a gentle sleepiness when the curtain around her bed is pulled back with a swish. "Miss Cohen-Chang?"

If Tina hadn't seen Blaine's jaw dropping open then she would have felt embarrassed knowing hers did exactly the same. She's not one for traditional kinks, and has never really understood the 'guys in uniform' thing, but the man that stands across from her is perhaps the most inhumanly beautiful person she's ever actually seen in real life. Light blue scrubs stretch across broad, muscular shoulders, and his hair is spiked and tousled and Tina's fingers just itch to smooth it down. She shoves her working hand under her thigh and curses in her head trying not to stare at the biceps that peek out from underneath the scrub sleeves. The doctor looks at her with a curious expression, and it's then that she realises she hasn't answered. "Yeah," she replies, cursing the breathy quality of her voice. Clearing her throat, she tries again. "T-tina."

She can see a frown take over his face as he takes in her bloody scalp and hears the hesitancy in her voice. "Tina," he echoes, tone calm despite his expression. "I'm Doctor Chang." Stepping up towards the bed, he's practically between her knees when his hands reach up to touch her chin, fleetingly. " I hear you tried to stop a work boot with your face?"

"N-not one of my b-better ideas," she agrees with a grumble, letting him move her chin to the left and to the right with only the lightest of touches. He probes the area around the wound gently, but it's still enough to make her wince, and then shines a small penlight into her eyes one and a time. She blinks heavily against the brightness.

"Any nausea?"

"Trying not to p-puke on you right now."

She's being flippant, but it makes Dr Chang laugh. His voice when he speaks is low and warm, and his laugh is the same. It makes something in her stomach flip.

"Dizziness?"

Tina lifts one shoulder in a shrug, and is about to answer when Blaine scoffs next to her. "She almost fell off a subway platform and then very nearly took out a row of patients in your waiting room," he confesses before she has the chance to deny it. She shoots him a glare but he just responds with a widening of his eyes and a flicked glance towards the doctor that is _way _too obvious, and Tina's completely grateful that when she looks up again the doctor's eyes are fixed on her chart.

He clears his voice, lifting his chin to look at her. His eyes are dark and she can't help but stare at his chiselled jaw as he speaks. "Miss Cohen-Chang - "

"_Tina."_

"Tina. Sometimes when people have head injuries it can result in speech and language problems, so I just wanted to know -"

Tina feels Blaine's hand slide into her good one, and he answers before she's even figured out the question. "She's always stuttered," he states, and his tone is almost defensive. He pulls his body so he's sitting up straight and Tina recognises his 'lawyer' voice. She can't help but squeeze his hand because, really, she isn't offended by the question and so it's a little bit absurd that he is on her behalf.

"Since sixth grade," she corrects, because there was a time _before, _even if Blaine hadn't known her then. "D-don't worry, they d-didn't loosen any screws up there." She taps the side of her head with her injured hand, and then curses in a hiss.

Instantly, Dr Chang is reaching out and taking hold of her arm, and his hands are surprisingly soft and warm. And large. He turns her hand over, manipulating it gently, and Tina can feel her cheeks flare at his proximity. She stares down at her chipped red nail polish and bites her bottom lip.

"Sorry about that," he apologises, mistaking her discomfort for pain. Returning her arm to her knee he picks up the chart again, scribbling some notes. "It doesn't look broken, just a good sprain. I'm going to wrap it and I want you to rest it and keep it elevated when you get home, okay?"

She nods her head, holding her arm out gingerly as he reaches over to the cupboard next to him and pulls out a roll of bandage. He carefully begins winding it around her skin, pressure just enough to be supportive instead of painful, tucking and pinning the material like carefully crafted origami. Once finished, he again reaches out to touch her cheek. "Now, as for this head, I think you'll be fine with just some butterfly stitches. So I'm going to flush this out, and then fix you up, okay?" Picking up the chart, he turns to look between Tina and Blaine. "It looks like a minor concussion, so you should be fine with just a few days rest and no wild parties." He waggles his index finger at her, and she can't help but laugh. Ridiculously attractive but still a total dork. Somehow that makes her heart quicken even more. "Now I'd prefer it if she was still woken up every few hours tonight," the doctor orders Blaine, who looks momentarily startled at being addressed, but nods, serious.

"Of course," he agrees. "Whatever we need to do."

"And bring her back immediately if she blacks out or the nausea gets worse."

"Th-there goes my weekend," Tina jokes, and even though Blaine is looking at her with a concerned frown it makes Dr Chang crack a smile.

"Sorry about that," he apologises with a gentle grin, flicking his eyes up to meet hers. "I'm sure your friends will understand."

"I d-doubt it," she counters with a small shake of her head, and her dark curls go tumbling over her shoulder. "They're fifteen and I p-promised them we c-could b-break out the ch-charcoals this week." Off of the doctor's confused glance, she clarifies, "I spend most w-weekends at the d-drop in centre on West 14th. I t-teach art classes to the k-kids there."

The doctor looks like he's about to ask another question when Blaine pipes up from his position next to Tina. In truth, she'd almost forgotten he was there. "I'm going to go find Kurt," he tells her, leaning in and pressing a swift kiss against her temple. "He's been gone awhile and he's either lost or still berating Quinn so…"

Tina laughs and nods her head. "I'm n-not going anywhere."

He hops off the bed and towards the curtain, and as the doctor turns his back Blaine does a complicated pointing/waggling eyebrows/thrusting hip combination that has Tina sputtering and glaring at him and wishing she could curse him out right there. Instead she just flips him off with her good hand and can hear him laughing all the way down the hall.

She fairly certain her cheeks are still bright pink when Dr Chang turns back to face her. "So you're a teacher?"

Her mind is still on Blaine and his inappropriate pelvic thrusts so she doesn't catch his words the first time. "Sorry?"

"You're a teacher?"

Tugging on a loose curl, she shakes her head. "No, an artist. I j-just work part time at the Centre."

"Is that how this happened? Some kind of stampede for paintbrushes?" His smile is small and quirked at one corner of his mouth as he writes on her chart, looking up from under his eyelashes (and God, Tina can't help but notice his eyelashes). His tone is light and teasing. "Must be dangerous work."

She can't help but laugh at that, and shake her head, carefully. "P-protest in support of G-gay marriage," she admits. "Outside the Senator's offices." She tries to sit still as he takes a small square of gauze, placing it over her wound and carefully securing it against the skin of her forehead, but her booted feet sway beneath her. "There's always a hater who has to ruin it f-for everybody."

He's just opened his mouth to reply when the curtain swishes open again, and Blaine's face peers through looking completely apologetic. He clears his throat and toys with the cuff of his sweater. "Apparently Jacob Ben-Israel was filming the riots and caught you going down. And it looked bad. Kurt says Quinn won't let him off the phone until she's talked to you and knows you're okay. Sorry."

Dr Chang nods his head. "Well, we're all done here anyways. Just take it easy for a couple days and keep your wrist elevated, and take ibuprofen for any pain."

Tina nods her head, and jumps down from the bed as she usually would, without remembering her impaired balance. She topples forwards, pretty much landing smack square against her doctor's chest. His firm, warm, muscular chest. His reactions are quick as a whip and he reaches up and grabs her before she can fall any further. "Whoa," he chuckles softly, holding her steady by her biceps until she regains her footing. "Didn't I say take it easy?"

Tina can feel her cheeks flare scarlet as she plants her feet firmly on the floor. Blaine is silent but she can practically hear the snickering that she knows is going on in his head right now. "S-sorry," she apologises, taking a half-step back, avoiding looking him in the eye because he's *so* close and damn, the smell of antiseptic and generic laundry detergent shouldn't be so sexy. She's pretty sure her whole body is blushing. "God. Klutz."

He finally lets go of her arms, but keeps his hands up, ghosting her frame, as though not sure if she'll stay steady on her feet. "No harm done," he assures her. Then, as though remembering Blaine is there, he turns his head towards the curtain. "She might need a hand out?"

"Of course," Blaine throws himself through the curtain, wrapping his arm around Tina's waist and letting her lean against him. "Alright?" he asks. "Ready?"

She nods her head. "Ready." Then, looking up at the tall, dark-haired man, she can't help but smile and give a jaunty salute (and really she has to stop hanging out with Kurt and Blaine if these are going to be the kind of affectations she picks up from them). "Thank you D-doctor Chang."

He smiles back, tucking her chart under his arm. "Take care of yourself Tina. And if you see anymore boots flying at your face, my medical advice is to duck."

"T-taken under advisement."

Blaine tugs her just slightly forward then, prompting her feet to move, and she does so, carefully and with purpose. Out of the curtain, down the hall, and out the automatic doors into the cool Autumn air.

Dr Chang walks over to the admit desk and replaces her chart in the stack, watching every step until she's out of sight. He's shaking his head, lost in thought until he feels a hand slam down on his shoulder.

He notices the mess of streaky blond hair first, and then recognises the grin on the face of the guy confident enough to wear his own purple scrubs. When he speaks it's with a soft tinge of a Tennessee drawl. "Come on bro, you and me, Curtain Two. Five-year-old with a fever and he's already puked on Matt and Leanna."

Dr Chang runs a hand through his hair. "Yeah," he nods his head, pushing away any stray thoughts running through his brain and returning his mind to the task at hand. "Let's go."

XxX

"You should have given him your number!"

Blaine's crowing from where he sits pressed against Tina's side in the cab (because Kurt had insisted – "You get taken to the ER you deserve a cab ride home. Plus if we get the subway one of us is basically going to have to carry you. And it's rush hour."), his head thrown back in a laugh.

Tina on the other hand, just scoffs and fiddles with the hem of her skirt, glaring at him with an arched eyebrow. "He's my d-doctor! It would have been so inappropriate. Besides, he could have been m-married, or gay! It shocks me that you'd m-make such heteronormative assumptions Blaine Anderson."

Instead of deterring him, this only makes Blaine laugh harder. "Tina if you could have seen the way he was looking at you…he most certain isn't gay. And if he *is* married then he's a bad, bad man. But no ring!"

"Of course you checked," Tina rolls her eyes.

Kurt, sitting on the other side of Tina, his legs crossed demurely, raises an eyebrow. "Do I need to be concerned here or what?"

Reaching over Tina, Blaine squeezes his boyfriend's knee. "Only on the days that don't have a 'y'," he promises with a soft smile that Kurt echoes. "But seriously, Tina…when you were pressed up against him - "

"Wait, _what!" _

"I f-fell!" Tina cries out, smacking Blaine hard in the thigh because the last thing she needs is for Kurt to get his gossipy teeth into that idea. "And he caught me. God, Blaine, _seriously, _he was doing his _j-job."_

Blaine crosses his arms over his chest. "You didn't see his face. I mean, I'm sure he's a consummate professional but Tina…don't try and tell me you didn't feel a little something."

Kurt covers his eyes with his hand and groans. "Oh God, tell me that wasn't supposed to be an innuendo, Blaine, please."

Tina laughs then, leaning her head against the headrest as the cab bumps along the Manhattan streets. Car horns blare around them; Blaine laughs too waving his hands like a mad man on acid. "No! I just meant…he made you smile, Tina, and it was…I don't know, it was nice to see okay? Also, it didn't hurt that he was extremely good looking and looking at you like he wished he could give you a full physical. And that _was _an innuendo."

There's more laughter, and then Tina rests her head against Kurt's shoulder as the traffic once again grinds to a halt. For a moment there's silence, and Kurt rests his cheek against the top of her hair. "He really made you smile?"

Tina doesn't answer; she turns her head so her face is buried in his shoulder and grumbles her frustrations. It doesn't make her miss Blaine's reply, however.

"Like a kid in a candy store. At Christmas. With kittens, puppies and a private performance by Gaga."

"Oh God, Tina, you should have given him your number!"

XxX

It's been a long day. In fact, it's been a series of long days with him covering shifts left, right and centre, and his body feels like it's running on empty. As soon as the clock chimed on the end of his shift, Mike had bolted to the locker room, not wanting to get caught and asked to stay or cover again. As he prepares to leave, all he can think about is three things: shower, alcohol and his bed. He's just pulling his jacket on over his scrubs and trying to figure out how many beers it will take to remove the memory of disimpacting Mr Himmelstein when a flash of something over at the admit desk catches his eye. A white gauze patch under turquoise streaked locks, wind-pinked cheeks on pale skin, dark eyes, and ruby red lips. Collar of her black jacket turned up against the cold and heavy boots worn under a red plaid skirt.

His feet still and the words are out of his mouth before he remembers thinking them. "In another fight already?"

She whips around at the sound of his voice, and he can see how much she's recovered even in a couple of days; she stays steady on her feet through the pivot and pins him with a smile that's wide and bright and wow – he'd wondered if maybe he'd over-exaggerated her attractiveness in his memory, but seeing her again…he totally hasn't. "No f-fighting," she promises with a shy smile, and waves a fingerless-gloved hand in the general direction of the desk. "I forgot to sign one of the insurance d-documents or something. So they c-called me in."

"They certainly won't let you forget the insurance."

"I'm j-just thankful I have it," she replies, pushing her long hair behind her shoulder.

Seeing the flash of her pale arm beneath the sleeve of her sweater makes him ask, "How's the wrist?" and he's surprised and a little concerned when her face is suddenly overtaken by a guilty expression.

He watches as she holds it out in front of her, pulling her sleeve up. The bandage isn't the same one he put on her and it's loosely wrapped and looks like she tied the knot off with her teeth. "I g-got paint on the other one," she admits. "And my r-roommate wasn't home so I had to d-do it myself."

He can't help the smile that takes over his face, despite his exhaustion. "You couldn't ask your boyfriend to help you?"

She looks legitimately confused at that question. "B-boyfriend?" she echoes, brow knotted.

He slides his hands into his jacket pockets, rocking back on his heels and ignoring the way that makes his sneakers squeak on the linoleum flooring. "The guy you were with?"

The laugh that spills from her lips is bright and amused and makes her shoulders shake up and down. "Not my b-boyfriend," she corrects, and the words make a strange feeling shoot through his body. "M-my roommate's b-boyfriend."

"Oh." Mike curses inwardly, not knowing whether he should be embarrassed by his mistake or just completely ecstatic that the well-dressed, objectively attractive guy that had been holding her hand and kissing her head apparently belonged to someone else. "Sorry. He just seemed like a nice guy."

Tina cocks her head then, curiously, and he swears he can almost hear cogs in her head turning. Her smile drops and her eyes seem to shadow, and she breaks their eye contact with a one-shouldered shrug. "Well, I'd g-give you his number but he's kind of t-taken," she shrugs her shoulders. "Sorry."

It takes him a moment – a beat – to understand her response, and then he _screams _curses inside his head. "I didn't mean it like that," he back pedals, because damn he's sure he isn't imagining the disappointment on her face. "I wasn't trying to pick him up. I'm not gay."

"Oh," her mouth falls open, and she goldfishes for a second, and when her cheeks colour again he's fairly certain it's not to do with the temperature. When she speaks again her voice is kind of thin. "Okay."

Rubbing his forehead with his hand, he coughs out a small laugh, and is pleased that when he looks up she at least has a small smile on her lips. "Can we start again?" he asks, reaching out and ghosting her elbow. "Let me re-wrap that wrist for you. You look like someone's tried to patch you up at the Somme."

She allows him to lead her down the hallway towards an empty exam room where he sits on a spinning stool and wheels himself across the room to grab the right supplies. "Hop up," he tells her with a cock of his head. "Unless you need me to lift you up there?"

He's teasing and she just rolls her eyes and pulls herself onto the bed with a slight bounce. Her skirt flutters around her knees - God bless the perv who invented knee socks - and he can't _believe _he just thought that so he stares hard at the bandage as he starts unwrapping it, and then at the poor purpling skin underneath. "You've been resting it?" he asks, focusing on doctoring – on medical questions – because it stops his mind from wandering to her smooth skin or the fact that she smells like lemons and still has a streak of blue paint winding up her forearm towards her elbow.

Nodding her head, she licks her lips slowly, pink tongue running along her ruby-painted mouth. He runs his hand over her wrist, checking the bruising and tenderness, and her dexterity. "Kurt won't let me c-carry anything heavier than a soda."

"Kurt?"

His question seems to startle her, and she looks up, eyes wide. "My roommate. My b-best friend. The actual b-boyfriend of m-my not boyfriend." There's a gentle tease in her words that he acknowledges with a small smile as he once again wraps the bandages around her small wrist. It's finished quickly, and he pins it with a flourish.

"All better."

Tina twists her wrist left and right as though to test the validity of his work. "You're g-good at this. You should c-consider making a career out of it."

Spinning on the stool, he packs the scissors and bandages back into their cupboard. "It's secretly my dream to be a professional gift-wrapper," he smiles, joking.

She grins in reply. "D-does that mean I can get a ribbon on t-top next time?"

"Only if you're good."

He's finished, and she's still sitting there with her legs swinging; they're both grinning at each other, and Mike knows deep in his heart of hearts that this isn't like every other day at work. That something else is going on.

He's about to open his mouth and say something – just _go _for it, just _try, _because Lord only knows he doesn't feel like this with most women that he meets – when the door to the room crashes open and Matt walks in with an intubation kit in one hand and his pager in the other, and he's squinting down at the screen and doesn't seem to notice they're there until he's standing right in front of them and finally looks up.

"Do I actually have to throw your ass out of this hospital?" Matt frowns, seeing his friend still sitting there in his scrubs, despite being technically off work for over 30 minutes. "I thought you were gonna' go home, catch the game, actually sleep for more than an hour in a row." He folds his arms over his chest, and Mike can tell he is about to launch into another rant when he realises there's another person in the room. Matt's dark eyes grow wide with comprehension, and Mike's inordinately pleased that they've known each other since Med School because just one change in expression tells him he doesn't have to explain anything right then.

"I'm just leaving," Mike promises, standing up and zipping up his jacket. He looks over at Tina. "Can I walk you out?"

He can tell she's thrown off-guard by the surprise interruption, and so just nods her head and lets him take her arm and help her down from the bed. "Careful," he teases, his voice soft and low and he's rewarded with a shy smile as her feet hit the ground.

Mike can feel Matt's eyes on his back, boring into him, but he straightens up and ignores the feel of all the unspoken questions that he knows Matt is storing up for later. "Get some rest Changster," Matt speaks, and his words are laced with so much meaning that all Mike can do is nod his head.

"See you later bro."

Mike halfway down the hall before he realises he's still got his hand on Tina's elbow. And she isn't moving away. They stay in silence until the automatic doors slide open and they exit into the bracing wind. Tina clutches her coat around her and bounces on the balls of her feet. "C-cold," she complains with a wrinkle of her nose.

"Makes me miss California."

"That's where you're f-from?" she asks, curiously, and he's sort of amazed because they're both standing there, freezing and just looking at each other, and her breath is coming in little bursts of fog from between her lips.

"Mmhmm," he answers with a firm nod. "You?"

"Ohio," she responds with a shrug but it's softened with a smile. "So I'm used to hard w-winters."

He nods his head and then they're just standing, staring at each other, both wearing small, silly smiles. And neither one is moving to go. Mike feels like this is the moment, like he should grow a pair and say something now because otherwise she's going to walk away and get on the subway and be gone from his life and he will have wasted his second chance. He's literally opening his mouth to speak when he's interrupted _again. _

"You m-maybe want to get a c-coffee some time?" Tina asks, her cheeks pink (whether from the wind or nerves, he's not sure) and her face hopeful but calm. "I know you m-must be p-pretty busy b-but - "

"I'd love to," he interrupts, because he can't help but, and he can tell she doesn't mind because her face lights up and she grins, cheeks dimpling and teeth straight and white and joyous.

Reaching into her pocket, she pulls out her iphone and laughs when he pulls the same out of his pocket. "Snap," she laughs, and then they trade and there's a moment of silence as they program their own numbers into the opposite phone. Then, handing his back to him, she smiles at him shyly. "So…I should go," she cocks her head towards the street, away from the harsh lights of the hospital behind them.

"You're okay getting home?"

Asking the question is completely automatic, and the amused look she gives him tells him that it's kind of stupid because she's a grown woman and has clearly been getting around the city without his worry pretty well up 'til now.

"It's only a couple b-blocks," she assures him, sliding her phone into her coat pocket. "Thanks."

"I'll call you," he promises, fleetingly touching her arm – somewhere between elbow and shoulder – before remembering something. "Oh, and if you get paint on your bandage again just call me okay? Even if your roommate is back. Or his boyfriend. I'd feel remiss in my duties if I let you walk around like that."

She nods her head, smiling shyly. "What about charcoal?"

"Charcoal?"

"I m-might get charcoal on it. Could I call you then?"

He pretends to consider it, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I don't know…charcoal can be pretty serious. It might need immediate attention."

She grins at that, ducking her chin to her chest. "I'll k-keep that in m-mind," she replies, and then finally – with what looks like effort – steps off the curb and out of the reach of his touch. "Have a good n-night Doctor Chang."

"Mike," he calls after her as she begins to walk away.

Stopping her feet, she turns. "What?"

"My name…it's Mike."

She just grins in reply.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you so much to all who have commented and reviewed so far. This is a work in progress that has many more chapters already written and future chapters being constantly worked upon.

**Warning**: this chapter is where it becomes M for a reason. All consensual – just two adults doing what adults will do.

xXx

It's two days before he texts her and she's sitting at her easel when the phone vibrates, cutting through her focus and making her drop her paintbrush. It clatters to the floor, leaving a streak of yellow from her knee down her calf. At first she curses, but then seeing the name on the display she can't help the way her heart seems to quicken or the smile that tugs at her lips.

_I__'__m __off __work __Friday __night,_ his text reads. _You __want __to __do __coffee,__ or __do __you __think __we__ could __upgrade __to__ drinks __perhaps?__ As __it__'__s __the __weekend._

She wipes the paint from her hands on the nearest article of clothing she can find – knowing she'll curse herself for it later – and taps out a reply.

_As __it__'__s __the __weekend, _she agrees. _I __hope __my __doctor __is __okay __with __me__ partaking __in __a__ couple __of __beers?_

She sends the message and barely has turned back to her easel before the phone is vibrating again.

_You may need to remain under medical supervision. Just in case. Plato's, 7pm?_

The bar is halfway between the hospital and her apartment and full of flea market furniture, European beer and good music.

_I__'__ll __be __there,_she replies, adding a_:)_ on the end because she really is excited and she really can't help the grin that's taken over her face. Setting her phone down she stares back at her easel and the bright, sunshine yellow that's spread across the canvas.

Closing her eyes, she wishes for Friday to get there fast.

XxX

"I can't believe you think the White Album is overrated!"

"I c-can't believe you don't!"

They're huddled together in a corner booth, Mike's arm stretched behind them and notably *not* on her shoulder, and her body twisted so she faces him. Her good hand holds a bottle of beer while her hair falls in gentle curls about her shoulders, and under the table their feet keep bumping into each other.

"Blackbird is on the White Album. Perhaps one of the best Beatles songs ever written."

Tina laughs, lifting her beer to her lips. " Nowhere Man? G-golden Slumbers? In My Life? I mean, Blackbird's great but there are s-so many amazing songs and…yeah, I'm s-sorry, the album is overrated!"

"Blasphemy," he says, but he's laughing and drinking, licking his lips and looking down at her fondly. "We can at least agree on Led Zeppelin IV, right?"

"M-musical genius," she nods, shifting her foot and allowing it to brush against his jean-clad calf. "Stairway, Battle of Evermore and Black Dog? B-brilliance." Reaching up, she toys with the red ribbons that lace up the front of her dress and tie together - bright against the black fabric. "B-best Zeppelin song?"

He's watching her fingers toy with the ribbon, but when she speaks he drags his eyes away and rakes a hand through his hair, the neck of his beer tapping against his chin as he thinks. "Babe I'm Gonna' Leave You, no doubt," he says with a firm nod.

"Upbeat," she laughs.

"But awesome."

Smiling, she looks over at him with his cowlicky hair still damp from his shower and his plaid shirt and little skinny tie and long legs clad in well-fitted jeans; she's all kinds of amazed that he's sitting here with her, joking about Led Zeppelin of all things. And that his fingers are currently toying with the lace trim of her skirt, occasionally brushing the skin of her knee beneath. "So how long have you been painting?"

Shifting just a fraction closer to his body, she bites her bottom lip and considers the question; pretending not to notice the way Mike's eyes zero in on her mouth when she does. "I've always d-drawn," she explains. "I used to c-carry a ninety-six pack of Crayolas around like a p-purse."

This makes Mike laugh - loudly and warmly and honestly - and a grin breaks over his face. "I would have loved to see that."

She pushes a curl behind her ear. "Kurt has pictures," she admits, rolling her eyes in dramatic fashion. "I'm sure he'd love to have someone to share w-with."

Mike brushes his finger against her skin again – just above her knee - and it makes goose bumps run over her body even in the warm bar. "I'll keep that in mind."

It's enough to make her drop her head and smile shyly and have to push down the bubble of excitement she can feel welling up inside of her. Really she's itching to just grab his tie and pull him down so she can taste his lips, or move his hand up from her knee to somewhere way more satisfying, but she knows there's merit to a slow burn. Taking a deep breath (and not honestly realising how much it makes her breasts strain against the bodice of her dress, rendering him completely distracted for a beat), she takes a pull of her beer and forces herself to calm. "What about you?"

He's still pulling himself back together and his eyes from her cleavage; it takes him a second to respond. "What about me?" he echoes dumbly.

"What do you d-do for fun?"

There's a long beat of silence, and then he reaches out and tucks a loose curl behind her ear. "This is fun."

Despite the shiver that runs through her, Tina isn't distracted. "So this is what you do? Your n-normal Friday night? A girl, some d-drinks, a fleeting touch?"

She doesn't sound annoyed, or even that concerned, and any lingering worry is dispelled when Mike laughs and shakes his head. "Actually I haven't been on a date in over a year," he admits with a self-deprecating shrug.

"Why?" she asks, and sounds honestly aghast, because she can't believe that a man who looks, well, as completely and undeniably fuckable as Mike looks hasn't been turning women away in droves. Not to mention that he's smart and – despite some questionable music tastes – really fun to hang out with.

He tugs his beer. "My work is pretty demanding, and I haven't met anyone who makes me…I don't know…excited enough about a relationship to put the effort in."

"You're p-picky?"

"Picky is so negative. I prefer to think of myself as a connoisseur."

"So if you're not dating, what do you do to burn off all that energy?" she asks, and her words and tone are purposefully teasing and coupled with a tiny smirk of her painted red lips. "Hitting the gym?" Her guess is underscored by a touch of her fingertips to his chest, and she can feel the rock hard pecs beneath the thin material of his shirt.

He quirks a half-smile back, fingers drawing swirling patterns against the soft skin of her thigh as he edges the material of her skirt up another centimetre. "Yeah, I go to the gym with some guys from work, or I go running."

Tina wrinkles her nose. "Sounds kind of p-productive for a hobby."

"Sometimes I even read medical journals," he teases, reaching for her hair again, but this time not so much pushing it behind her ear as just kind of…_toying__…_with it. "When I was a kid and I wanted to blow of steam I used to dance in my room."

"You're a dancer?" she asks, curious and surprised, and leaning into his touch without thought. One hand tangles with his on her thigh, their fingers interlacing, and her thumb sweeps back and forth across his knuckles. The other stays cradled in her lap.

He nods, shakes his head, and then shrugs with a laugh. "I used to want to be. But medicine was a more stable career."

"Were you good?" she asks, scooting slightly closer so their bodies press together from hip to chest; she's kind of tucked under his arm and he's dragging their laced fingers slowly up her thigh, and if he doesn't stop soon she's fairly certain things are going to start getting indecent in a very public place.

He leans in closer, and their faces are mere inches apart. "I have good rhythm."

She laughing softly and his fingers are brushing against her skin and she can feel his beer-and-minty breath against her cheek, and damn if tonight doesn't end with him completely ravishing her then she think she might actually implode. Or explode. Or something equally dramatic and dangerous.

"You want to get out of here?" she breathes, already reaching down for the jacket that Kurt insisted she bring – "It's October and I don't care how great that dress makes your boobs look that's all anyone's going to be looking at and you'll catch a chill and oh my god take a scarf and just have fun and be careful okay?".

Reaching up, he tugs the laces on her dress and it brings her body even closer to his. The feel of his fingers through the material makes her heart beat rapidly and she's surprised he can't feel it his touch is so close. His smile is sincere, and small, and he looks down at her with a mixture of fondness and hunger that she thinks must be unique to him because she's never seen it before. "I'd like that."

They're out of the booth and out of the bar, and barely around the corner, before he grabs her hand to stop her walking, and then her back is against a wall, his lips are on hers and her hands are clutching at his shirt front and their breath coming in pants when he pulls back.

"I couldn't wait," he tells her simply.

"I'm glad you didn't."

XxX

With all the up-against-various-walls, under-a-streetlight, just-in-the-middle-of-the-street making out they stop for, it's after one by the time they get to Tina's front door. As she rummages in her small clutch bag for her keys, he wraps his arms around her from behind, pressing kisses against her neck and making her laugh. "Shhh," she scolds, even though she's the one making the noise. "Kurt's p-probably sleeping so we have to be quiet."

"I can be stealthy," he promises as she slides the key into the lock and turns with a quiet 'snick'. They go tumbling into the apartment, her arms around his neck and his around her waist, and she kicks the door shut behind her. "I'm a total ninja."

Toeing off her heels, she drops a couple inches and has to stand on tiptoes to press a kiss against his jaw. "A sex-ninja?"

"Yep," he agrees with a nod, kissing her hard, his hands pressed against her back and then wandering lower, bunching her skirt up at her hips. "Sneaking in and making you scream and then disappearing into the night."

"Making me scream huh?" she repeats with a quirk of her eyebrow, fingers coming up to the knot of his tie, pulling it loose and easing the material from around his neck. She begins working on the small, circular buttons of his shirt. "Promises, promises."

Picking her up, he pins her against the hallway wall and her legs wrap around his waist. A photo falls from its hook but he barely notices. "I don't make promises I can't keep," he breathes into her neck, teeth scraping the sensitive skin there, and it's enough to make her groan and tighten her legs around him.

"M-my rooms the one on the left," she tells him, pushing his chest just enough that she can get her feet to the floor. Then, grabbing him by the collar, she pulls him towards the half-open door.

The room is chaotic and packed with easels and cameras and discarded paintbrushes and colouring pencils, and Tina has to shove three sketchbooks off the bed before she pushes Mike down onto the comforter. Despite the clutter, the sheets are cool and crisp and smell faintly of citrus. Tina straddles his thighs, finishing her task of unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it down and off his shoulders. When he's shirtless she allows herself a moment to just stare at his sculpted body, and traces her finger along the shadows and lines of his muscles.

"You're amazing," she breathes, passing a thumb over his nipple and watching as his breath catches and he grabs her thighs tighter in his grip. She's just reaching up to touch his cheek when she twists her wrist and the pain lances through her arm, enough to make her stop and hiss. "_Ow.__" _

The word is enough to cut through his haze, and instantly 'Mike' disappears and 'Dr Chang' is in his place. "Careful," he admonishes gently, supporting her wrist in his palm and rubbing over the bandaged skin with a feather-light touch. "You're meant to be resting this."

Her eyebrow arches and she shoots him a pointed look, but he just edges backwards on the mattress and then flips them so she's pressed against the effervescent stack of pillows and he's leaning over her. He ignores her murmurs of protest, silencing them with a kiss to her lips, and then trailing his mouth and his tongue down her neck. His fingers tease the ribbons at her chest, sliding them out of the eyelets, and Tina's one working hand is clutching at his shoulder, and then sliding down his chest and trailing along the skin above his jeans. "Mike," she giggles after he's stopped kissing her for a long pause. "What are you d-doing?"

He stares down at her chest, confused and frustrated. "How the hell does this thing come undone?" he asks, cupping her breasts through her dress and brushing his thumbs across the curves. "They've been driving me crazy all night and all I want to do is rip it off and it's besting me." He leans down, pressing his hot mouth against what skin is available to him. "_Tina__…_" he pleads, and the longing in his tone turns her on more than she's prepared for.

She can't help but laugh, twisting her body to the side. "There's a zipper," she divulges, lifting her arm up to show him, and his eyes light up as though she'd just shown him the map to the golden city of El Dorado.

Reaching up he eases the metal zip down the curve of her ribs, each tooth coming apart with a slow, almost inaudible click, baring first the white skin of her side and then, when he bunches the material of her dress up around her hips, her waist, and eases it over her chest and shoulders – tossing it to the floor – he gets to see a whole expanse of her smooth, pale skin covered only by scraps of black lace underwear.

His eyes widen at the sight of her breasts uncovered, and presented gloriously – full cups that he can just imagine spilling over like brimming glasses of wine – all supported in soft black lace that makes her look completely adorable and unimaginably wanton at the same time. "You're so sexy," he says, and it's completely earnest and honest and makes Tina's cheeks flush; his thumbs are sweeping over her nipples again but without the dress between them and Tina can't stop the soft mewl from escaping from between her lips. Mike leans over her, teeth nibbling at her neck. "You like that?" he asks, brushing her nipples again.

She nods her head, hand moving to cup the back of his neck and drag him up so her lips meet his in a long, hot kiss. "Take off the bra and I'll enjoy it more," she instructs, and she's glad that he doesn't look affronted by the order, but rather his face lights up and he reaches behind her to flick the clasp – one handed, she's duly impressed – and then pulls the material down her arms (so careful of her injured wrist) and throws it off the bed – she doesn't even care where it lands at this point. And then she doesn't think much more because while his thumbs on her nipples were good suddenly his mouth is there and all she can think about is, "Oh God, Mike."

Ever since the bar, since his trailing patterns on her knee and his fingers though her hair she's felt a low burning feeling in her stomach, but it intensifies ten-fold when his teeth tug at one of her nipples at the same time as his crooked knuckle brushes over the front of her panties. Her hips jolt, and she rakes her fingers through her hair, not even caring how it twinges her wrist. He seems to take that as encouragement and does it again, pulling back just for a moment to watch how the flush spreads across her chest. "Can I take them off?" he asks – and he's so sweet for asking because _as__if_she's going to say no at this point when they've had one foot in bed and his cock half inside her since their second beer.

"Please," she half begs, her voice is breathy and she's already wriggling her hips against the mattress in encouragement, and he slides them down and off her legs and then she's completely naked as the pad of his thumb presses against her and a finger crooks inside and she's been _so_ready for this all night that her knees start to shake and her stomach clenches and _fuck,_he lied about having good rhythm – he has _amazing_ rhythm. He slides another finger inside her and she's practically incoherent because the only things she can say are _Mike,__please,__more._Then her breath is catching and her head is spinning and his lips are on hers, and she's fairly certain she might have just died a little because _damn,_it's been too long and _fuck,_she's not sure it's ever been like that.

There's a long pause as they kiss – or rather, he kisses her and she responds half-consciously – before she comes back to herself, and then – despite her still wobbly legs - can't help but crawl onto her knees and grab his shoulders and push him down so he's the one flat on his back. "Too many clothes," she grumbles, trying to work the button fly with her one good hand but he ends up helping and then she's pulling his jeans down and _Lord,_the touching and tasting has clearly had an effect on him as well and she trails a finger over the front of his black Calvin's, gripping him through the material.

"Tina," his voice is loud in the quiet, and drenched in arousal, but then his fingers wrap around her arm and are pulling her away. "I hate to be a doctor in a moment like this but, protection?"

"Pill," she offers with a half shrug, reaching for him again, but he grabs her hand and – after a moment of good-natured tussling – pins it, and her, to the mattress. "_Miiike,__" _she moans, and it's throaty and low and she wriggles and her breasts move, and then his tongue is on them again and she wants to touch him but he's still holding her wrists down. "Let me touch you."

His tongue trails from her breasts, down her sternum and he dots kisses around her belly button. "The pill doesn't protect against disease," he throws in, and it's not exactly the sexy-talk she was expecting from him, so she throws her head back against the pillows.

"Mike come _on.__" _

"Have you ever had a one night stand?"

She pushes him off then, both of them sitting up and her straddling his thighs so even through his Calvin's he presses against her. And she's still hot and wet, and she rocks her hips as she bites his neck and his hands fly to her waist – seemingly unable to decide whether to still her or encourage her. She can feel him bucking against her, even as he tries to stop himself.

"This isn't a one night stand," she assures him, nibbling at his ear, and _God,_she can feel him getting harder against her when she does that and when her teeth bite down he groans.

"That's not why I asked."

"Then why are you pressing this?"

His fingers clench around her hips then, and he seems to force himself into some semblance of control. "You really think I'd rather talk about this than be in you?"

The words are direct, and honest, and Tina crawls off of him with a frustrated exhale, leaving him kneeling and hard on the bed. "I'm on the pill, I've been on the pill since I was fifteen and yes, Mike, I've had one night stands and I've had sex without a condom, and no, I didn't know all the people those people had slept with. Hell, I didn't even know all of those people in the first place." She's rummaging around on her desk under art supplies and discarded t-shirts and he's just watching her perfect naked body in the moonlight. "I know everybody's got a random so could you please just put a condom on, and get inside, me and I will go and get tested next week so we don't have to talk about this again?"

Mike's mouth hangs open. "You are actually all kinds of amazing, did you know that?"

"Yes," she grins at him, crawling onto the bed next to him and holding out the foil wrapper with her good hand. "Now take them off, and take me. I'm done being patient."

He's laughing, standing up long enough to pull his Calvin's down – and Tina's eyes totally widen at the sight of him without any material to obscure his body, and _damn,_what a body – and then he's on the bed again and pulling her against his hard chest and ripping the foil with his teeth; her good hand and one of his carefully rolls it on his cock, and then his hands are in her hair and his lips are on hers and he's dragging her on top of him while he settles himself against the pillows. "This was you being patient?" he teases when he finally pulls his mouth away from hers, lips kiss-swollen and red.

"It's been a while," she admits, taking hold of him and tilting her hips up so he can slide inside her. There's a brief moment of resistance but she's so wet that all he has to do is tug on her nipple as she rolls her hips and then she's sinking down onto him and they both groan at the feeling. "Too long," she leans her head back, her hair spilling down her back and her breasts thrust forward. "God, Mike."

She's so sensitive from having already come and the fact that really it _has_been way too long since someone touched her like this – because vibrators just don't cut it, dammit – that she keeps her movements slow and smooth. Mike groans against her shoulder as his mouth tastes the smooth, salty skin, alternating between nipping with his teeth and bathing the smooth curve with his tongue. "You feel amazing," he breathes into her neck, one hand clutching at her hip and the other moving to tug at her nipples until they stand out like raspberries against her creamy skin. He can feel the pull shoot all the way through her body, clenching her muscles in sequence and ultimately gripping him inside of her. "You're so…fuck…_Tina.__" _

He grabs her harder against him, unable to stop his hips from slamming upwards, and it's enough that it steals her breath and starts the low throb in her stomach all over again. She feels worshipped, and filled, and bites his lower lip as she rocks her hips harder. Then the throb becomes a burning, and the burning seems to catch fire and spread all across her skin, and she can hear Mike moaning too as his hips become erratic, and then he's saying her name – mumbling it into her neck and her ear and her hair –kissing her again and then pulling back from the kiss with a low gasp that makes his whole body tremble.

Tina can feel the moment he comes inside of her; the way his abs tense and his hands falter for a moment on her hips, and his chest heaves. She's still clinging onto him, panting, because she's shaking and it takes a long moment of just holding each other, murmuring nonsense words against lips and skin before either one of them can move with purpose. Mike slides out of her – carefully, gently – and Tina can't help but touch herself as he moves to dispose of the condom, because _God,_she's not sure she'll ever be the same after that.

In the back of her mind she half expects Mike to start pulling on his clothes and leave with a distracted peck to the cheek, so she's beyond relieved when he pulls back the covers and collapses into the pillows, pulling her flush against his body. "I had a really great time tonight," he tells her, kissing her lips softly; tracing the outline of her face with his hand as though memorising the feel.

"Me t-too," she agrees, wiggling one of her legs in between his, amused that their height difference means her toes are closer to his knees than his feet. "You are a sex-ninja," she giggles against his lips.

"Told you," he grins.

One of his hands comes to rest on her hip, and rubs slow, small circles against the skin there. She can't help but look up at him, at his slowly closing eyes and languid brushing lashes. "Will you stay tonight?"

His breath is slowing and even, and he wriggles so her head rests in the crook of his shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere," he promises, yawning and kissing the top of her head.

Smiling, she takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. "Good."

XxX

She's woken up by the sound of beeping and reaches over to where her alarm clock should be but is met with the feel of a warm, hard body next to her instead. At her accidental touch Mike groans, and pulls himself up to sitting, causing cold air to sneak under the blankets. "That's me," he tells her, his voice husky for the early hour, and apologetic, as he hunts around on the floor until he finds his jeans and pulls the pager out of the pocket. "Go back to sleep."

She shifts in the bed slightly, over to the patch of mattress that's still warm from his body. "Do you have to go?" she looks over as he begins pulling his Calvin's back on, and rubs her sleepy eyes with the back of her wrist.

"I know it looks bad," he acknowledges. "But one of the guys just called in sick and there's been a multiple MVA and they need me." His jeans are pulled up and fastened and he looks over at her with disappointment-filled eyes as he picks up his shirt. "I'm really sorry."

She pulls herself upright and slides out of bed and over to him, standing on tip-toe to put her arms around his neck. "I'll let you off," she murmurs, pressing a long kiss to his lips that makes him stop buttoning and instead wrap his arms around her waist, holding her close to his body. "B-but I'm holding you to the promise of m-making me scream."

He looks down at her, disappointment fleeing from his eyes, and his lips pull into a large easy smile. "I look forward to it."

She helps him do up the rest of his buttons, pressing slow lazy kisses to his lips between each one, not even trying to stop her fingers feathering teasing touches across his midriff in a way that makes him half groan, half laugh. "I really have to - "

Nodding her head, she kisses him again, one long, hot kiss that leaves them both breathless. "Go," she prompts, tapping her hands against his chest and trying to ignore the tingling feeling buzzing along her skin.

He pulls away, walks to the door, and then turns around, just staring at her for a moment.

"What?" she asks, looking down at herself, wondering what he's looking at so intensely.

"Just…I had a really great time last night."

She can't help but grin then, wrapping her arms around her still naked body. "Me too."

XxX

The next few weeks follow the same pattern. Mike comes over, or they go out, have an amazing time, make each other laugh, have fantastic sex, and then his pager goes. Sometimes in the middle of the night, sometimes in the morning, and once in the middle of her sucking him off, at which point she grabbed his thighs in a vice-like grip.

"If you reach for that right now, I will never do this again."

He lets his hand drop back to her hair and decides a few extra minutes won't hurt.

Even Kurt mentions it when they sit around the kitchen table, coffee pot between them and Tina still with smudged eyeliner and sex hair, her arms wrapped around her knees.

"You've been dating for over a month and we haven't met him is all I'm saying," Kurt points out as he stirs milk into his strong coffee. His hair is perfectly styled and coiffed and his t-shirt crisp and fresh; Tina smoothes her wayward strands behind her ears trying to look a little less rumpled. Kurt reaches for an orange, handing it to her without words, and she automatically begins to peel it – their morning routine.

"He w-works a lot," is all Tina can counter with, coupled with a half-shrug, because she knows it seems strange that he only steals in and out of her bedroom in the evening hours, but then it's not like Kurt is there all the time. "B-besides, you would have met him already if you weren't spending most of your t-time at Blaine's."

There's a long pause as Kurt stares down into his coffee, his brow furrowed. She pops a piece of orange between her lips, relishing the bright, juicy citrus taste, and so is almost startled when she feels his hand slide over hers. "You're _sure_he isn't married?"

His voice is soft, and concerned, but causes laughter to break from her lips. "I'm sure," she promises, and then off his still-worried glance, she can't help but reach out and wind her arms around his neck. "You'll m-meet him," she promises, pressing her orange-sticky lips against his cheek in a way that makes him swat at her and grouch (though it looses its sting because his lips are curling up at the corners), but he rolls his eyes and kisses the top of her head in reply.

"I just think when I've heard a guy moaning your name three nights in a row, it's probably time to like, get a coffee together."

She laughs at that, blushing but proud, and nods her head. "I p-promise, soon."

XxX

The basketball thunks against the ground as three men stand in a half-formed semi-circle outside of the ER entrance, the blonde in only purple scrub bottoms and the other two in sweat-marked t-shirts, the shorter of the two dribbling the ball.

"It's been a month, are we ever going to meet her?"

The ball swishes through the air, landing in the hoop without effort, and Sam and Matt share a high-five. Mike grabs the ball from the ground, tossing it to Sam who has to jump slightly to catch it. "You will."

"When?" Sam's voice is curious and he pushes his bangs back from his face. "When hell freezes over? When Santana decides to finally give this one a roll in the hay?" He jabs his thumb back over his shoulder towards Matt, who clutches at his chest dramatically.

"My queen," he says with a laughing sigh, catching the ball when Sam tosses it to him. "You know one of these days she's going to give in to my lovin'."

"Yeah, like I said, when hell freezes over," Sam replies, and then Matt grabs him in a head lock and is giving him a nougie and Sam's pretty much punching him in the testicles and the ball goes rolling across the ground and Mike's laughing, one hand against his forehead.

Eventually the guys break away from each other, still giving good-natured dead-arms, and Mike just quirks an eyebrow. "You seriously wonder why she hasn't met you yet?"


	3. Chapter 3

Enjoy chapter 3. Thank you for all the comments and reviews far. They are always much appreciated.

xXx

It's about 3am when Mike finally manages to drag himself to the on-call room, landing face down on the bed. His body aches and his bones feel like stone and his eyes just want to close, but most of all he just wants to hear something that will make him feel better. There have been too many hours of blood and tears and the beeping of machines as he tried to stop a teenager from coding.

Pulling out his phone, he presses the screen without even really having to look and holds it to his ear as he snuggles against the pillows. It rings and rings and rings, and disappointment almost overwhelms him, when the ringing finally stops and he hears a small, sleepy voice on the other end.

"Mike?"

Relief crashes over him, and makes something weird squeeze at his heart. "Hey," he replies, not even caring how strained his voice sounds. He presses his fist against his eyes hard enough that he sees stars.

He can hear her shifting around, material and skin moving against each other. "It's late," she sounds surprised almost, but not annoyed, and he can imagine her rubbing her eyes with the back of her wrist like a sleepy kitten. "Are you okay? Are you c-coming over?"

There's such hope in her voice that it makes his heart hurt, and he shakes his head even though he knows she can't see it. "I'm still at work. I just wanted to hear your voice." He can't help but be totally honest, because after the kind of day he's had…he just wants to talk to her. "I wish I was there with you."

There's a pause then, "I wish you were too," she replies, and her voice is slightly more awake but still very soft. "I m-missed you tonight."

He has to take a deep breath – in and out – until he feels his throat relax. "I miss you too."

She can obviously hear the strain in his voice but she doesn't comment – which he's grateful for because he doesn't want to have to explain or rethink everything that's happened over the past couple of hours – and instead she just makes a little sound like a purring cat and he can picture her snuggling into the pillows and pulling the covers around her body. "Kurt wants us to go f-for lunch with him and Blaine. He wants to v-vet you."

Mike laughs then, chuckling softly as he shifts on to his side and closes his eyes; trying to imagine that she's lying next to him instead of being five city blocks (and what feels like a thousand miles) away. "I'm not working Saturday," he tells her, feeling his eyes growing heavy. "Are they free then? I'd like to meet them too."

Because he's heard so much about Kurt and Blaine, and other than that first fateful meeting when Tina was bleeding and he still thought Blaine was her boyfriend and was trying to be professional and not just completely stare at her, he hasn't had a chance to talk to either man. And it's weird because he's spent so many nights in their apartment, and has used Kurt's shampoo for fuck's sake and drunk his expensive Jamaican blend coffee, but hasn't actually had a conversation with the guy.

"I'll ask," she replies sleepily, and he feels bad for waking her up because he knows she has work in the morning but damn, this is just what he needed; a moment of connection with another person. A moment where he can just breathe easy.

He can hear her shift on the bed again and she whimpers softly. "You okay?" he asks, concerned, because while she doesn't sound hurt, she sounds frustrated and it might just be the fact she's been forced awake in the middle of the night and guilt niggles at his stomach.

"I like it b-better when you wake me up with your hand up my shirt," she admits, and it's all he can do not to groan and think back a couple days to when he'd crawled into her bed; she'd been wearing the skimpiest pyjamas, and he hadn't been able to stop himself touching her and she'd woken up moaning his name.

He presses his hips into the mattress, fighting himself from physically responding to the memory because now _really_isn't the time and here _really_isn't the place. Not when he could be dragged out and back to work at any moment. "Oh God Tina, you have no idea how much I like that more than this," he breathes, and he can hear her laughing and then there's a sigh and his ears prick up because he knows that sound. "Tina…"

"Has anyone ever t-told you your voice is incredibly sexy?" she asks, and it's half-joking, half-serious; her voice is low and sleepy and punctuated with a moan.

He curses aloud in the quiet room. "Are you trying to kill me?" He squeezes his eyes shut trying to block out the sounds, but he realises that closing his eyes is worse because he's bombarded with images and memories of her and _God,_he wishes he was there with her right now.

"Trying to m-make you feel better," she corrects. "I could do a b-better job if you were here."

He's groaning then, keeping his free hand fisted in the scratchy, generic sheets because otherwise he knows he won't be able to stop himself jacking off furiously to the sound of her soft moans of his name. And that just isn't cool when he could be paged back at any second and other people have to use to room after him. "I feel better," he assures her, and then stares up at the ceiling. He can hear her breath growing shallower and quicker. "God, Tina."

The five actual city blocks – the thousand imagined miles – suddenly seem like nothing and everything when he hears her voice catch and she's whispering his name and he can practically feel her shaking body pressed against his. They're both breathing hard – Tina sated, Mike frustrated – but it's still so much better than he felt fifteen minutes ago.

"My shift finishes at five," he tells her when his brain can finally function.

Her voice, when she finally speaks, is smug. "I'll be waiting."

xXx

"I didn't know Chang had a sister."

If Matt Rutherford is a pimp, as he has been known to be called, he at least considers himself an honest one. He never cheats, never lies, and always shows a lady a good time. Trey Donovan, on the other hand, is a showboating surgeon and lives up to his reputation as an asshole and a man-whore, and so Matt can't help but bristle as he slides along side him at the admit desk.

"That's because he doesn't," Matt replies shortly, picking up his chart and scribbling a note for Santana who's in the middle of a heated conversation on the phone, her high ponytail bobbing behind her head.

"Then who, pray tell, is the living embodiment of a perverted Japanese businessmen's darkest fantasy that's bringing him coffee?" Matt looks confused for a second, so Trey cocks his head towards the other side of the desk where a small woman with hair pulled back in pigtails, and – _seriously__ – _knee socks peeking out under a sensible black wool coat, waits with her lacy gloved hands wrapped around a large cup of coffee. From Mike's favourite coffee shop.

"Uh…" Matt can't quite answer because he isn't really sure, and anyways, he's fairly certain his brain has just short circuited because _damn_if Mike's been keeping a sister that hot a secret all these years he might just have to beat him up.

"What are you two losers staring at?" Santana's hung up the phone and is staring at the two men, her hands on her hips, and when neither one of them answer she follows their gaze over to the other side of the desk. "Sister?" she asks, and when both men shrug she can't help but roll her eyes, reaching out and smacking both of them upside the head. "Stop staring, you look like perverts," she orders, but can't help sneaking another look over her shoulder at the waiting woman. "I thought Mike was an only child?"

"I thought so too," Matt replies, keeping his voice low.

Picking up a chart, Trey lifts his head up and straightens his shoulders. "Less talking, more doing," he says with a leer, and it's enough to make Matt frown and Santana shoot him a glare as he wanders off.

"Douche," she mutters after him as he walks around the desk, but she and Matt both watch with curious tension as he approaches the small, dark-haired woman.

"Hey," Trey's voice is smooth and charming and Tina starts slightly to have a complete stranger start talking to her in the middle of the hospital. She clutches her fingers around Mike's coffee harder.

"Hi," she replies cautiously.

Trey puffs out his chest – making his green scrubs all the more noticeable – and uses the hand that isn't clutching the chart to sweep the chestnut hair back from his forehead. "Are you waiting for someone or can I help you?"

He sounds sincere, but there's something about the way he stands – just a fraction too close – that sets Tina on edge. "I'm f-fine," she says, and feels her cheeks tinge pink when he frowns at her stutter. "I'm just waiting for D-doctor Chang. He knows I'm here."

Trey seems to take this as conformation of her identity, and is just leaning his body in towards her when they are broken apart by the sound of a voice.

"Tina!"

Mike walks down the hallway, long legs making short work, and stops right next to her with a broad smile on his face. Tina looks back at him just as brightly and Trey knows he's been completely forgotten.

"You left this morning b-before you had any c-coffee," she announces, almost shyly, and holds out the large cup for him. His name is scrawled on the side along with some random doodles and he takes it out of her hands and places it on the side of the desk before wrapping his arms around her.

"You are wonderful," he tells her, and then pulling back just slightly, he presses his lips against hers, and then her arms are around his neck and his around her waist, and Trey slinks back around the other side of the desk.

Matt and Santana can't help the laughter that bursts from their lips, and Santana leans against Matt's broad chest as she whistles appreciatively through her teeth. "Not his sister," she comments as Mike and Tina continue to make out in the middle of the hallway.

"*Definitely* not his sister," Matt agrees.

xXx

"So we'll camp outside his offices until he comes to speak with us. Or at least sends a representative, he can't keep stone-walling us on this…Tina?"

Sat in the middle of the coffee shop, cups clinking and chair legs scraping against the floor and the wind blowing outside, Tina realises that she's completely zoned out of the conversation; when Quinn says her name it's like a smack upside the head. She actually jolts in her seat and feels guilt stealing over her as Quinn stares, eyebrows raised and her pen stilled over her pad of paper.

"I'm so sorry," she mumbles, straightening up, pushing her hair back from her face with both hands. "I was a m-million miles away."

The corner of Quinn's lips quirk, and the pink-haired girl sets her pen down and steeples her fingers together, resting her chin on top. "You've been doing a lot of that the last couple weeks," she teases, using her thumbs to fiddle with the long silver chain that hangs around her neck. "Sure that knock didn't do permanent damage?" Her eyes skate across Tina's forehead where a faint red line is still just visible on her pale skin.

Sticking her tongue out, Tina reaches across the table and pokes Quinn in the arm, hard. "My head is fine," she reiterates (even though she's told Quinn the same thing pretty much every day since the incident – the punk girl has a tendency to worry about her). "I just d-didn't get much sleep."

It's meant completely innocently, but Quinn throws her head back and laughs, and wags her finger. "You have to teach that man some self control. Or, you know, learn some yourself." There's a faint buzzing and Quinn slides her hand into her black skinny jeans and pulls out her phone as she continues to laugh softly. "Puck," she acknowledges. Scrolling down her message, she looks up at Tina from under her heavily mascaraed eyelashes. "You think you could tear yourself away from your burning hunk of man love for one night to look after your Goddaughter?" she asks.

"Protest?" Tina queries, taking a sip of her chai tea and wincing slightly because with all her daydreaming, the liquid has turned from scalding to tepid.

"Date night," Quinn corrects with a lazy smile.

"D-dinner and a movie?"

Quinn laughs, fingering the small silver stud in her nose. "Puck's a traditionalist, what can I say?" She lifts up her own coffee, taking a long sip and looking at Tina over the top of the mug. "What about your McDreamy-alike? Traditionalist? Or uncharted waters?" She keeps her tone light but Tina can read the tempered concern there and has to stop herself from rolling her eyes; as if she isn't getting enough mother-henning from Kurt.

"He likes t-taking me out when he can," Tina gives, rubbing her thumb along the red lipstick stain on the top of her mug. "And he's got the whole 'strict Asian upbringing' thing going on." She thinks hard for a moment. "But he's d-definitely got d-depths. And his kinks," she acknowledges with a slight laugh and one hand pressed against her cheek because she can feel the pink heat creeping over her skin, especially when Quinn starts laughing again and leans back in her chair.

"Doctors and nurses?" she guesses. "Or is that too close to home?"

Tina shakes her head, biting her lip to stop herself grinning. "Not d-doctors and nurses," she gives, but twirls a piece of hair around her finger, tugging it gently as she considers her reply. Also, she's very aware that they're in the middle of a busy coffee shop in bustling Manhattan and not everyone needs the details of her still-new sex life. "B-biting. Some light bondage."

Quinn whistles through her teeth. "Sounds like you two are a match made in heaven. I assume he's the one getting tied up?"

A waitress walks past exactly at the moment that Quinn speaks, and shoots the two of them a startled, judgemental look – a step up from the ones they normally receive for their plethora of black clothes and piercings and technicoloured hair – that just makes Quinn laugh and Tina bury her head in her hands. Her shoulders shake with giggles.

When their laughter dies down, Quinn sips her coffee again and her face takes on a furrowed, serious look that Tina knows well. "He's not pushing you into anything?" she asks gently, voice soft and her eyes not quite meeting Tina's. She toys with the cuff around her wrist, black leather sliding in a circle and silver studs glinting in the afternoon Fall light.

"He's happy with what I want to d-do," Tina promises, crossing her legs at the ankle and squeezing her knees together, the thick material of her black wool tights rubbing against her skin. "I've told him I'm not c-comfortable being tied up and he respects that."

There's a long pause, and Quinn licks her lips and nods her head, and then picks up her pen again. "So, you'll take Beth on Thursday night?"

Tina grins, wide. "I'd love to."

XxX

When Mike gets off work and walks out the door he is taken aback to see a familiar face waiting for him, hands buried deep in the pockets of her black wool coat and a small smile dimpling the corners of her wind-pinked cheeks.

"Surprise," she smiles, rocking back and forth on her heels, looking up at him from under her eyelashes in a shy, coquettish manner that has him freezing in his tracks and his jaw dropping a fraction.

Sam, who had walked out the door with him, just rolls his eyes and claps him on the shoulder. "Later dude," he throws out, knowing that Mike barely hears him as he waves distractedly at the blond's retreating back.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, and he realises it sounds kind of blunt and ungrateful because her smile falters just slightly and her shoulders tense.

"I was in the n-neighbourhood having l-lunch with Quinn," she tells him, biting on her lip. "And I remembered what t-time you finished. I th-thought you might appreciate the c-company?"

She's hesitant, and nervous, but then he launches himself towards her and grabs her in a hug; her arms go around his neck and cling and he presses light kisses all over her cheeks in a way that makes her laugh brightly. "You have no idea how much this makes my day better," he tells her, squeezing tightly, fisting the material of her coat in his hands and breathing in the familiar lemon-scent of her hair. "Hi."

"Hi," she responds softly, lips settling into a warm curved smile. She pulls back enough to brush her thumb over the light stubble on his cheek. It's barely there, but just enough that he feels slightly rough to her touch. "You n-need to get home?"

"Not if you're the other option," he shakes his head. "I'm not working again until tomorrow night."

She grins, taking his hand in hers – the lacy fingerless gloves brushing against his bare palm – and they begin walking away from the hospital, arms swinging between their bodies. "I thought it was a nice afternoon for a walk." A chilly wind whips her hair behind her shoulders, but the sun is bright and clear overhead and the sky is perfect and blue. Brown and amber leaves scuttle at their feet.

"You have the best ideas," he breathes, tugging her hand so she walks just a fraction closer and their elbows brush each other. He laughs when she pulls away again long enough to jump on a particularly crunchy looking leaf. It crackles under her boots and makes him stop them walking long enough to cup her face and press a long, warm kiss against her wind-dry lips. "You're ridiculously cute."

Pulling back from the kiss, she rolls her eyes at him fondly. "You're j-just ridiculous," she tells him, but softens the words by squeezing his hand.

He accepts that with a smile, taking her hand again as they continue their walk. "So do you have plans for me this afternoon?" he asks, half-innocent and half-cheeky, bracing himself as a particularly strong gust of wind batters his face.

Tucking her tangled hair behind her ear, Tina cocks her head back and forth. "I was thinking shower and then some b-beers in front of the tv? 'Singing in the Rain' is p-playing on Classics. And Kurt is w-working late on his feature and my c-class at the Centre d-doesn't start 'til 11 tomorrow."

His heart swells with something then, and it's a feeling that he's been having a lot recently, but can't quite place. Like something is itching to burst out of him and leave him in a little pile of ashes. But all he can do is squeeze her hand back. "I love 'Singing in the Rain'."

"I kn-know," she smiles up at him. "I've seen your Gene Kelly t-shirt. In fact, you left it on my floor."

"I was wondering where that was," he acknowledges with a shy laugh, rubbing his face with his free hand.

They walk for a long time in quiet silence, commenting on people walking by or the wind, and Tina pulls away from him a couple more times to jump on leaves. The last time she does it he grabs her round the waist and lifts her up, spinning her around as his own sneakers crunch down before she gets a chance.

"Cheater!" she cries out, laughing and smiling and not even caring that other pedestrians are giving them a wide berth or shooting irritated looks their way. Her legs flail and she playfully wiggles against his grip until he lets go of her and her feet can touch the floor.

They're outside of her apartment before either of them realise it.

"Feel like leaving some more clothes on my floor?"

A smile breaks over his lips. "Love to."

xXx

The shower is steamy and Tina feels ridiculously decadent as she raises her beer to her lips as Mike kisses a trail up her calf and over her kneecap. The bitter, hoppy taste, combined with the pelting warmth of the water and Mike's hot, wet mouth is enough to make her stomach flip, and as his lips trail further up her leg – unshaven cheek scratching her inner thighs just lightly – she has to reach out and press her hand against the wall for balance.

"God, Mike," she breathes, leaning over just long enough to set her bottle down on the counter top next to her toothbrush – worried that otherwise she might drop it and broken glass and nudity are never a good mix – and rakes the fingers of her free hand gently through his hair.

In response, he nips the flesh of her inner thigh, drawing lazy patterns against it with his tongue and pressing butterfly kisses to the smooth pale skin, inching higher and higher so slowly that it's enough to make her whimper and he laughs into her hip. Giving into her clear non-verbal pleading, his hands reach up to cup her ass as his tongue finally flicks against her. She's glad he has such a firm grip, because her legs spasm as he moves his mouth, lips sucking and tongue exploring and dipping in and out of her with practiced ease. Her hand fists in his hair and she can't help bucking her hips towards his mouth.

She considers herself lucky that Mike takes unspoken direction so well, because he moves one hand from her ass and slides a finger inside her as he sucks at her clit. Her legs fall wider apart as he adds a second digit and she can feel the blush spread over her cheeks and chest and heat tingling all over her body; the noise of the water seems muted as all she can hear is her own heavy breathing and the gentle movements of Mike's lips and fingers.

For a moment she's seriously worried that she might come and fall and drown, but then Mike's pulling his fingers out of her and she feels totally bereft. She's about to complain – to whimper, to _beg_if she has to – but then he's standing up and sliding one hand under her slick thigh so it's locked around his hip; his lips are on hers (and he tastes like beer and herand she can't get enough)_,_his thumb swipes over her clit as he pushes inside her, and her whole body's pressed against the slick tiles and _God._ It's enough to make her teeth rattle.

She knows he gets off on going down on her; knows it from the way his teeth bite at her neck and he's ridiculously hard even though she barely touched him. He's holding her up with one arm (and she takes a moment to be incredibly turned on by just how muscled and strong he is that he can do that) and the other is still between their bodies, dancing over her sensitive clit with light sweeps and an unexpected pinch that catches her off guard and makes her whole body tense as she curses in Korean and clings to his body – arms around his neck and legs around his waist – as she shivers and shudders and she swears she can feel him sink even deeper inside of her.

Mike's hair is plastered to his forehead and rivulets are running down his shoulders and abs and disappearing between their bodies, and he moves his hand from her clit to her breasts, palming her already tingling nipples until they're so hard they stand at attention and bright pink. He thrusts up into her, hard and fast, and he pulls her leg even higher on his waist and she can feel him brush the place inside of her that makes her see stars. Still so sensitive from her first orgasm, she actually falters at the feeling of a second – of the clenches and spasms and waves continuing and building again – and her breath catches hard in her chest.

Her body gripping tightly around him, Mike can't help but groan her name and press her even harder against the wall, his hips thrusting hard as he spills – hot and wet and completely – inside of her.

The next few minutes are spent heavy breathing and open-mouthed kissing and Tina still occasionally shuddering against him as the last vestiges of orgasm tickle her nerve endings. She clings to him; all arms and legs wrapped around and tight, and locks her ankles behind his back when he tries to pull out. "In a minute," she murmurs into his shoulder, but doesn't protest when he lets go of her long enough to turn off the water. The cold air buffers them immediately and goose bumps prickle at Tina's skin.

"Come on babe," Mike prompts, rubbing her back, because his legs are still kind of wobbly and he's slightly afraid that if he tries to get out of the tub with her still wrapped around him they might actually end up a sprawled mess on the floor. "You're okay."

There's a pause, and then Tina tips a small nod of her head, and Mike eases her slowly down so her feet can touch the floor. Pulling out of her makes her whimper – still sensitive – and it's all Mike can do to keep his hands to himself because dammit, two in a row is good but three would be better.

Stepping out of the shower he grabs two of Tina's large navy towels, securing one around his waist and holding the other out for her. She steps into it willingly, letting him wrap her up, rubbing her shoulders and her back, and he pushes her soaking hair back from her forehead and kisses her soundly. "Okay?"

"Mmhmm," she murmurs back, snuggling into his body, still searching for his touch and his warmth, and she lets him dry her off with patted touches and rubs up and down her body that make her skin tingle. It takes a few minutes but she finally gathers the wherewithal to grab her hair and twist, and drops of water pitter-patter at her feet.

Mike reaches up and tucks a strand behind her ear. "It's weird to see without the blue," he remarks, because even though he's seen her without them before he's just way more used to her with the vibrant streaks.

"They go weird if I wash them too much," she admits, letting the towel drop to the ground and reaching up to the back of the door where her fluffy robe hangs. Slipping her arms in, she lets Mike tie the sash at her waist, and then leans over and picks up the earlier-abandoned beer and brings it to her lips. "You ready for the movie?"

Laughing, he can't help but reach out and grab her to him, their bodies pressed together and her fitting perfectly so her head rests against his shoulder. "You make me happy."

She smiles back, but it's hidden in the curve of his neck. "You make me happy too."

xXx

When Kurt finally gets home with Blaine in tow, it's to find Tina sprawled on the sofa – oversized t-shirt rumpled round her waist and polka-dotted panties peeking out under the hem – completely fast asleep. A broad-shouldered figure is crouched down beside her, scribbling on the edge of a magazine, and starts when he hears the door being pushed open.

Mike shoots up to his feet and stands face-to-face with the two men, looking a little guilty even as he rocks on his heels and nods his head in acknowledgement. "Hey," he says, feeling awkward and totally aware that Kurt's green eyes are darker than usual as he stares at him, and Blaine is shooting glances between his boyfriend and the good doctor. "I was just leaving her a note – I didn't want to wake her up – could you tell her I headed back to my place to grab some clothes?"

Blaine nods his head, "Sure," but Kurt doesn't answer. He just crosses his arms over his chest and watches, silent and still, as Mike picks up his backpack and then nods his head.

"Okay," he tries again, because the tension is really thick and he totally has no idea why Kurt is staring at his as though he wants to castrate him. "I'll catch you guys soon. Tina said something about lunch?" He offers it tentatively, hoping that Kurt might latch on to the subject – it had been his idea after all – but he just turns on his heel and walks towards the kitchen table, leaving Mike and Blaine looking at each other.

Blaine looks overwhelmingly apologetic. "Lunch would be good," he offers, and can see the relief crash over Mike's face that at least one half of the couple isn't irrationally mad at him. Or whatever Kurt is.

Mike shoulders his bag and shrugs as he slides past Blaine and towards the door. "Nice to see you two again," he says – forever polite – before sneaking out the door and shutting it with a quick 'click' behind him.

There's a long pause and then…"Always just disappearing into the night," Kurt scoffs, setting his messenger bag down on one of the empty chairs and rubbing at his wrist, his voice kept at a hard whisper.

Pulling off his jacket Blaine eyes him, brow furrowed. He's seen Kurt be haughty and dismissive before but never without good reason, and certainly never with someone in their social circle, and so Blaine's confused by his apparent anger. "He's a busy guy and he doesn't exactly work normal hours. She doesn't seem to mind." He nods his head towards Tina's prone body and mussed hair. "She seems happy, Kurt."

Kurt only responds with a huff of air as he pulls mugs out of the cabinets and fills the kettle with water. His lips are pressed together in passive aggression and he presses his hands flat against the counter top. "I don't trust him." He winces slightly, wiggling the fingers of his left hand.

Reaching out, Blaine wraps his fingers around Kurt's wrist, rubbing at the flesh and bone with his thumb in gentle concentric circles. "It's going to rain?" he asks as a seeming non sequitur, but it's enough to make Kurt's eyes film just slightly as he nods his head.

"Yeah."

Heaving a sigh, Blaine wraps his arms around his boyfriend, holding him firm and warmly and he can feel when Kurt finally gives in and sags against him. He rubs his hand up and down Kurt's back. "I know you worry about her. But she's not sixteen anymore. She's a grown woman and could kick *your* ass and I think you have to trust her to make her own decisions."

Kurt's fingers curl into the soft material of Blaine's sweater. "It's my job to look after her," he pouts tiredly, and he rubs his nose against Blaine's shoulder. "I just don't want her to get hurt."

"There's always a chance that people can get hurt when they get into a relationship," Blaine offers as he pulls away, the kettle bubbling and hissing; he picks it up and pours the steaming water into the two mugs, the scent of camomile raising from one and peppermint from its mate. "But Mike seems like a nice guy."

Dropping into one of the kitchen chairs, Kurt hangs his head and stares at his hands. His voice is barely audible when he speaks. "They always seem nice, Blaine. They're doctors or teachers or guys on the football team and no one suspects - " His voice falters and he takes a deep breath, shrugging his shoulders and painting a sad smile on his face. "No one suspects."

Kneeling down in front of him, Blaine rests one hand on Kurt's knee and uses the other to cup his chin. His smile is small and understanding. "Not all guys are going to hurt her," he reminds his boyfriend, squeezing his knee. "You need to give her this chance to be happy."

There's a long moment where they both look over at Tina – still unconscious on the sofa – and her lips move and she murmurs into the empty air, dreaming and stretching her legs and snuggling further into the pillows like a toddler. It's enough to make a genuine smile break across Kurt's lips.

Blaine feels relief and he stands up, picking up the camomile tea and holding it out for Kurt. "She's going to be looking to you for support Kurt - you know you mean the world to her."

Nodding his head, Kurt takes the mug and unwinds his body from the chair, standing up. "I'll try," he promises, blowing across the top of the drink as Blaine twists his body and picks up his own peppermint tea. "I promise."

Sighing, and smiling his small, loving smile, Blaine holds out his hand. "Come to bed with me?"

The taller man just takes his hand, fingers interlocked, and follows.

xXx


	4. Chapter 4

My thanks as always to my ML, and to all of you for reading, reviewing and loving the Tike!

xXx

Mike's sitting in the cafeteria, pushing his food around on his plate with his fork, his chin cupped in his palm. The salad is limp – particularly unappealing – and it's not helping that Matt is sitting across from him, earbuds wedged in his ears as he listens to the latest lecture on Immunology while twirling pasta absentmindedly around his fork, basically completely _absent_from their lunch. Nerves have been fluttering in Mike's stomach all morning and he's been trying to ignore them – his feet tapping against the floor – but he knows he's failed when Santana approaches their table.

"Seriously, Loser, what the hell is going on with you?"

She taps Matt's shoulder, and he leans back from his food so she can slide onto his lap, stealing his bread roll and tearing a small piece of it off and popping it between her lips. One of Matt's hands rests on her hip as the other turns the pages of the medical journal on the table in front of him.

Mike rolls his eyes at the two of them. "What are you talking about?" he throws back, but his voice is kind of thin and he has to cough and clear his throat before he can sound normal. "I'm fine."

She shoots him a look that just screams 'bitch, who do you think you're fooling?' and drinks some of Matt's soda. He doesn't even bat an eyelid, instead carrying on reading intently. "Oh please," she argues, tossing her high ponytail over her shoulder. "You've been walking around here like you're waiting for your execution. And while I'd normally find your discomfort completely hilarious, it's just kind of annoying me. So what's going on?"

Frowning down at his salad, Mike stabs the tomato with his fork. "I'm meant to be having lunch with Tina and her roommate tomorrow."

Santana raises an eyebrow. "Okay?" she pats Matt on the arm and indicates his brownie, but he swats her hand away and pushes the bowl to the other side of the table, putting his finger to his lips. Santana pouts, but brightens up when Mike pushes his jello her way. She picks up the proffered spoon. "I don't understand what the problem is."

"The problem is her roommate hates me."

Laughter breaks over Santana's lips. "Why? What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Mike yelps, dropping his fork against the side of his plastic plate. He glares across the table at Santana. "Why do you automatically think it's something *I've* done?"

Spooning the red jello into her mouth, Santana shrugs her shoulders and shifts slightly in Matt's lap. He scoots the chair back to accommodate her swivelling hips, swapping his journal to his other hand so he can read it behind her back.

"You have that gassy infant look," she offers, her mouth still full as she points an accusatory finger at him. "So you must know something."

Mike shrugs his shoulders, but finds himself speaking. "I know Tina and Kurt have been friends since they she was six. They met in like, dance class. And I don't get the impression that they had a lot of other friends growing up."

Santana arches her eyebrow pointedly. "Does this bother you?"

"He's gay," Mike throws back with an eye-roll, tossing his napkin in her direction. "It's not like that."

"So what is it like?"

"Tina…her parents travel around the world; they're never in the country and haven't been since she was a kid. Kurt is…her family. And for some reason, he hates me. Or at least can't look at me without getting this weird frown on his face like he's thinking about ways to eviscerate me. It's not easy."

A scoff breaks over the table, and Santana wipes at her bottom lip with her thumb. She leans forward on her elbows. "It's never easy," she reminds him. "Ever. _Trust_me, I know."

He can't help but nod at her, because yeah, she does know.

"Look," she carries on, not interrupted by his momentary revelation. "You dig this chick, yes?"

He pauses, raking his hands though his hair. "Yeah. I do."

"So man up." Santana raises her palms, her expression one of simple command. She sticks her thumb in her mouth, sucking the last remnants of cherry jello off her skin. "I've seen you guys make out; she's clearly pretty into you too from the way she basically mounts you in the hallways. I can only imagine what you do when you're not in public."

"_Santana__ – "_

"What? I'm not saying I *do* spend time imagining it. I'm not that wanky. I just mean…you guys seem good together. And if this Kurt guy takes the time to get to know you, he's going to see that. And if he cares about your girl the way you think he does - "

"He _does.__"_

"Then he'll get over whatever's got his panties in a twist." Leaning back, she slides an arm around Matt's shoulder. "You agree with me, right Hot Stuff?"

He's obviously heard her, because he pulls out one of his earbuds. "What?"

Patting his shoulder, Santana leans back against Matt's broad chest. "Tell the Changster here that he needs to man up and own his relationship. And not let people tear him down. Unless it's me."

Picking up his brownie, Matt waves it in Mike's direction. "Santana's right. I mean, I have no idea what she's talking about, but considering I've been trying to get into her pants for three years I pretty much agree with whatever she says."

Smiling, Santana presses a kiss against his temple and pats him on the top of his shaved head. "That's my boy," she grins.

Staring, Mike shakes his head. "You two are actually insane, you know that?"

Leaning down, Santana steals a bite of brownie out of Matt's hand.

"Sanity's totally overrated."

xXx

Mike turns up at Tina's door looking deathly pale, his garment bag clutched to his chest.

"You have to help me."

Tina laughs, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the apartment, taking the bag out of his hand and tossing it on the table. She wraps her arms around his neck, pressing her body up against his, and can feel him relax at least a fraction. When she looks at his face again, he looks decidedly less pale. "I told you to b-bring a couple shirts, not your entire wardrobe," she teases, kissing the underside of his jaw with a smirk.

"I have no idea what to wear, and if Kurt hates what I'm wearing then I'm never going to convince him to stop hating me."

"He doesn't hate you," Tina tells him, but her voice gets kind of soft and guarded and she pulls back from him just slightly. She's still in her pyjamas and one of the straps of her tank top slips down her shoulder and he can't help but press a kiss to her bared skin. "D-don't," she murmurs, but with a giggle, "Or we'll be late."

He cups her breasts through the thin cotton. "Would rather stay here," he admits, swiping his thumbs over her nipples and her arms wind back around his neck, and she presses her hips into his in a way that makes him groan. He sucks on her neck for a moment until it starts to turn pink. "Haven't been inside you for two days."

"God Mike." Hearing him say the words so bluntly sends a shiver through her, and she can feel her body react and her breath catches. It would be way too easy to get caught up in the feelings and the chemistry but she knows they don't have time; she curses and her palms flatten against his chest and push him back until there's space between their bodies and she feels like she can breathe again. "I w-want to, you know I do. B-but this is really important to me." Her voice is soft but he can sense the pleading, so he just steps back, rakes a hand through his hair and nods his head.

"Okay," he agrees, trying to think of wounds or diseases or other disgusting things because he's fairly certain turning up to lunch with Kurt and Blaine with a raging hard-on won't go down well. "You're right. I'm sorry."

Reaching over for his garment bag, Tina laughs. "N-not an 'I'm sorry' moment Mike," she assures him, dropping cross-legged to the floor and unzipping the bag. She flicks through his carefully pressed shirts and pants and bites her lip as she gazes up at him in consideration.

He's wandering around the room – nervous feet pacing – and looking at the photos on the wall. There's her and Kurt in gowns and caps at their High School graduation, and God, Mike's amazed by how young she looks. How nervous and unsure and tentative, even with Kurt's arm wrapped around her shoulders and their scrolls clutched in their fists. And how _tiny._

"Are you going to wear those p-pants?" she asks, flicking a finger in his direction, and he looks down at the skinny black jeans that he's wearing.

"Maybe. Is that okay?" He smoothes his hands over the material, imagining creases that don't exist, and sighs, relieved, when she nods her head.

"They look good," she offers, and he can see the slight blush that colours her cheeks as she appraises him.

He raises his eyebrow in an arch. "Oh really?"

Unwinding herself from the floor, she pulls at the hem of his sweater, easing it up and over his head and tossing it aside. "Mmhm," she agrees, taking one of the shirts out of his bag. "Here, p-put this on."

He does what she tells him, shucking the cool material over his shoulders and letting her do up the buttons. "It's not too much black?" he ponders aloud, and then off of Tina's expression, he laughs. "I guess there's no such thing?"

She loops a red tie around his neck, manipulating the material into a loose knot at the base of his throat. "Definitely no such thing," she agrees, and then steps back to admire her handiwork. "P-perfect," she smiles, crossing her arms over her barely-covered breasts and Mike tries not to stare as it thrusts them up and forward. "Smart enough, but not over-dressed. You're wearing your sneakers so you're all set."

As she reaches up to straighten his tie, he can't help but wind his arms around her waist. "What about you?" he asks, kissing her softly (and trying not to press her too hard against him because _wrinkles)._ He rubs the thin material of her pyjamas between his thumb and forefingers. "You planning on going to lunch dressed like this? Not that I mind, it's just kind of cold out…"

Rolling her eyes, she swats him on the shoulder, pulling out of his embrace and heading across the room. "I have a d-dress," she tells him. "Now stay here and I'll go p-put it on."

"I can't watch?"

His voice is honestly disappointed and she turns around at the sound. "Will you be able to k-keep your hands to yourself?"

He thinks about it for a moment, but answers honestly. "No."

"Then stay here. I'll only be a m-minute."

He sighs, picking up his garment bag and draping it over the back of the chair, and with Tina out of the room he can feel his nerves begin to pick up again. Hoping for something to alleviate the butterflies in his stomach, he flicks on the stereo and nods his head when Katy Perry starts playing. _Teenage__Dream_wafts through the speakers and he finds his feet moving to the rhythm. "Is this yours babe?" he calls through the door, curious because Tina's never struck him as a Katy Perry fan. Gaga yes. Perry, no.

"Blaine's!" she yells back, and he can hear her curse from behind the half-closed door.

He edges along the hall. "You okay in there?"

He's surprised when her face appears in the gap at the door, her hair loose and curly and tossed around. She's wearing a plain black dress that stops _way_above her knees and a chunky silver necklace with black beads that falls between her cleavage. "Zipper," she prompts him, turning around so her naked back is on display, and he can't help trail his finger up the bumps of her spine before he pulls the metal up. She draws in a sharp breath. "T-tease."

Leaning in, he presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the nape of her neck. "We don't have time for anymore," he reminds her, though his hands skate up her thighs and just under the hem of her dress and she leans back for a beat, her back pressed against his broad chest. "After," he promises, just his thumb brushing the edge of her underwear, and it's enough to make her squirm against him as though seeking out his touch. Cupping her with his whole hand – and he can feel her warm and soft and _God_ – he pulls himself away, stepping a respectable distance apart. "After," he reiterates again, more firmly.

Tina turns and looks at him and he can't quite tell if she wants to ravish him or slap him, but then she calms after a moment and nods her head. "Yeah." Searching around under her stacked canvasses (her cheeks still high with colour), she finally finds her black ankle boots and slips her feet in, then picks up her purse and sweater from her bed. "R-ready?"

He holds out his hand and their fingers lace together and Mike feels the butterflies come back. He can only nod and let her drag him down the hall.

xXx

Their hands are swinging between them, her scarf pulled up to her chin and his coat turned up against the cold, and Tina's laughing bright and amused when her phone rings. _Single__Ladies_blares out and her face pulls into a frown. "Kurt," she explains, pulling it out of her purse and swiping it to answer. "Hey, everything okay?"

"Just checking you're on your way," he replies, and she can hear the low thrumming of activity that tells her he's already at the restaurant. Dishes clatter and music plays in the background.

She takes hold of Mike's arm, turning his wrist so she can see his watch. They still have fifteen minutes before they're supposed to be meeting. "We're three b-blocks away," she assures him, lacing her fingers with Mike's again. "I t-told you we'd meet you at one."

There's a pause, and Tina can hear Blaine's voice low in the background but she can't make out his words, and then Kurt's voice speaks again. "Well I know your boyfriend has a tendency to get called away so I wanted to check."

Tina can feel something clench in her stomach and it must show on her face because Mike squeezes her hand and shoots her a curious look. But she just shakes her head and answers back. "For w-work, Kurt. And he kn-knows this is important to me, okay?"

There's another long pause and then, "Fine. Do you want me to order you a drink for when you get here?"

Tina takes a deep breath, rubbing at her eye with her fist. "White wine?" she requests with a sigh, because she can hear the tension in Kurt's voice and he knows it shoots right at her heart. The last thing she ever wants to do is make Kurt feel bad but dammit, he isn't helping at this point.

"And Mike?" His name comes as kind of an afterthought, and is clearly said through a tight jaw, but Tina's grateful that at least it seems like a moment of effort.

She pulls the phone away from her mouth. "You want something to drink? Kurt and Blaine are already at the restaurant."

He looks surprised, but nods his head. "Uh…like a Sprite or something?"

She relays the information into the phone and Kurt says a short goodbye and hangs up with a click. Tina frowns as she slides her phone back in her purse.

"What was that about?" Mike asks curiously, because he can see the way her shoulders have tensed up and he slides his hand up her arm to rub at the back of her neck.

But Tina just shakes her head. "He just wanted to make sure we were on our way," she tells him, because there's no point in making him more nervous and _God,_now *she* feels nervous and she can't help but lean into Mike's touch. "C-come on, we're nearly there. Apparently this place has b-breadsticks to die for."

"I'd hope so, considering the name."

xXx

The restaurant, when they enter it, is pleasantly warm and they see Kurt and Blaine sat in a booth even before the host can get to them. Despite her unease, Tina can't help but light up at the sight of her friends, and rushes over to the table pressing ruby-red kisses against both their cheeks. "Hi," she breathes, unbuttoning her coat and smiling as Mike comes up behind her and helps ease it off her shoulders. "You guys remember Mike?"

Blaine's up first, extending his hand. "Nice to see you again," he greets warmly and Tina *beams* at him, and Mike's smiling too and shaking his hand.

Kurt follows in kind, holding his hand out, but his smile is slightly more fixed. "Nice to get to meet you when you're not sneaking out the door," he throws out, and he's trying to joke but it falls flat from the tension, and Tina's face falls as she stands next to her boyfriend.

Blaine shoots a frown Kurt's way and Tina can see his hand slip under the table and – she assumes – squeeze his knee in warning. Kurt's face falters for just a second as he looks up at Tina; she really just wants to ask him what the _hell_his problem is, but Mike is slipping into the booth and scooting over to make room for her; his face is calm and collected and he answers before she gets the chance. "It's the curse of being low man on the totem pole," he answers easily, as though he didn't even notice the undertone in Kurt's words. "I get to pull the shifts no one else wants and I'm the first one they call if someone else can't work." He takes a sip of his soda, sliding his hand onto Tina's knee and shooting her a small smile. "There definitely wouldn't be as much 'ships passing in the night' if I had my way."

She smiles back at him, a small, shy smile, and can't help but squeeze his hand. Then, clearing her voice, she tears her eyes from him and asks, "So whose idea was the restaurant?"

Blaine has his glass of wine halfway to his lips, and almost spills it down his chin as he answers. "Mine, actually. Do you remember Rachel, who works at my firm?" Tina nods in acknowledgement – the woman had helped her and Quinn out a number of times over the year and had always been loud, passionate and hard working. "Well she recommended it. Especially it's vegan meatballs, but I think I might pass on those."

Mike and Tina both laugh at that, and Mike nods his head. "My friend Santana is crazy about this place. I think she'd live off the breadsticks if she could."

"How long have you been working at the hospital?" Blaine asks, curious and polite as he peruses the menu. Kurt, next to him, is still silent, but Tina can see him watching and listening.

"Uh, I've been there since I started my internship," Mike tells him, and is relieved when Blaine nods knowingly, because trying to explain all the steps between college and Med School and specialising is complicated and not particularly exciting conversation for a first dinner. "So four years now?" He takes another sip of his drink, acutely aware of his dry mouth. "What about you? Tina said you're a lawyer? What kind of law do you practice?"

"Civil," Blaine replies enthusiastically; Tina thanks God for his enthusiasm because it's all she can do not to stretch under the table and kick Kurt square in the shin. "We do a lot of work with civil rights groups and individuals who are victims of discrimination."

"Wow." Mike's admiration is honest and earnest, and makes Tina duck her head and smile because she can't help but find him completely hot and adorable at the same time. "That sounds really rewarding."

Blaine's laugh is amused and warm and humble. "Perhaps not as much as saving lives."

The white-haired waitress appearing interrupts them and she looks at them fondly like they're her starving hungry grandchildren; waiting happily as they flail and finally focus on the menus. "If I get the eggplant p-parmigana do you w-want some of it?" Tina murmurs at Mike, her finger trailing down the menu. "They're always so huge and I know you like it."

"Mmm," he responds with an affirmative nod. "Would you kill me if I got garlic breadsticks?"

She laughs, softly against his shoulder. "I won't kiss you until you b-brush your teeth," she teases, leaning up just slightly to kiss the corner of his mouth. In the periphery of her vision, she can see Kurt watching them, and for the first time in a long, long time, she can't read the expression on his face.

"Maybe just the regular ones then."

"Maybe."

Finally they order and the waitress leaves – not before bringing Tina another glass of wine and she knows she better slow down because she hasn't eaten anything yet and she can already feel the flush over her skin – and there's a pause for a moment, then Mike's clearing his throat again and his fingers squeeze at Tina's thigh. "So Kurt, you're a fashion writer?"

It's a bold move, to try and engage Kurt directly when he's been so obviously withdrawn from the conversation, and Tina practically holds her breath as Kurt pulls himself up a little bit straighter. "Yes I am," he acknowledges, without giving any more information, and Tina can see Mike falter so she goes in for the save.

"Kurt's the lead feature writer for _Icon,__" _she offers up, rubbing her thumb along Mike's knuckles. "For their m-magazine and blog."

"You must be good," Mike replies, fiddling with the straw in his soda, slightly buoyed when Kurt at least shrugs his shoulders in coy acknowledgement of the compliment. "God, I was a terrible writer in High School. If it didn't have formula or a specific answer to remember, I was pretty much lost."

"Well don't worry, Kurt couldn't be a doctor," Blaine replies with a smile, nudging Kurt with his shoulder. "First sight of vomit he'd be out the door."

"Ack, thanks for b-bringing that up at d-dinner," Tina laughs, and even Kurt cracks a small smile. She tries to catch his eye – to look into his face, to figure out why he's holding back and shutting down – but he looks down at his napkin instead.

Everyone takes simultaneous sips of their drinks, and Mike licks his lips as he asks, "_Icon__…_is that the magazine you have stacks of under the coffee table?"

"Yeah," Tina tells him. "Why?"

He leans back in his seat, stretching his legs out in front of him and trying not to kick Blaine – opposite him – in the process. "I was reading one of them when you fell asleep the other night. I didn't want to wake you up with the tv. It was the one with all the pictures of the fall stuff and the football players?" His dinner companions all nod their heads in acknowledgment, au fait with the magazine's spreads. "I'll be honest," he reaches behind to rub his neck and _damn,_Tina knows he's going to say he didn't like something because he's got that face and why can't he just be less damn _honest_for once, except that's what she likes about him. "I didn't get why they were all wearing those pants with the feety things." He waves his hand towards his legs as if in indication. "They just looked weird."

Tina's startled when there's a cough from the other side of the table, and when she looks over, Kurt is dabbing wine from his chin. "Are you talking about stirrup pants?"

Mike shrugs his shoulders, and Tina can see that he's a little uneasy but at least Kurt is _talking_– and actually _to_him. "Maybe? The stretchy ones with the loopy things?" He wrinkles his nose. "I just thought they looked weird."

"That's because there's _never_an excuse for stirrup pants," Kurt crows, the first true smile of the day lights up his face, and Tina feels some of the tension that has been gathered in her muscles start to dissipate.

Across the table, Blaine catches her eye and smiles.

They're interrupted by the waitress bringing their food and Kurt starts rambling about the calorie count in the salad dressing as Blaine tops up his wine glass, and as Mike slides his hand into hers, Tina finally starts thinking that this lunch might be okay after all.

xXx

The four of them say goodbye at the restaurant after another bottle of wine and an insanely rich slice of cheesecake that it'd taken three of them to eat (Kurt had sworn off – too many empty calories). Tina can still taste the raspberries on her lips as she presses a kiss first to Blaine's cheek and then to Kurt's. "I'll call you?" she whispers against his skin, because after the first half an hour at least he had _tried,_even if he was still somewhat stilted and withdrawn.

He nods his head, squeezing her hand. "You know where I'll be."

"Are you c-coming home soon?"

It's plaintive, and quiet, and Kurt can hear the little-girl sound of her voice. "Tomorrow," he assures her, because he's been gone for almost the whole week and it's weird for them to not have spent any time together. "We'll catch up on Project Runway."

She grins at him, "I'll m-make popcorn."

They wave with a wiggling of fingers and then Kurt and Blaine head towards the subway and Mike loops his arm around Tina's shoulders and they head back towards her apartment with food-heavy limbs and wine-sleepy eyes. Tina yawns, her hand pressed against her mouth, and leans into Mike's warm body.

"Tired?" he asks her, dropping a kiss to the top of her head and tugging her just slightly so she fits under his arm as they walk.

"Mmm," she acknowledges, moving her feet but basically letting him steer her in the right direction. "I d-didn't sleep much last night."

"Why?"

Her boots clack on the sidewalk and she turns her head up to look at him. "You weren't there," she explains simply, with a gentle shrug of her shoulders. "I've k-kind of got used to having you around."

He doesn't reply, but pulls her even closer, and they reach the apartment as the sun starts going down.

xXx

They lay in bed, facing each other, heads pillowed on crooked arms and legs tangled together. Both are still fully clothed and they'd literally made it as far as the bed before crashing down on the soft comforter, so far only managing to trade lazy, sleepy kisses.

"I don't know how to make him believe that I'm crazy about you," Mike confesses, trailing one hand over her hip and across the smooth material covering her stomach, fingers tickling at her side in a way that makes her giggle softly and shift closer to him. "I mean…today was better but…he still looks at me like I'm going to - I don't know - steal your money and break your heart and like, run off with your sister."

"I don't have a sister," she laughs, her fingers toying with his tie, digging into the knot and pulling it loose so she can tug the material round his neck. She tosses it aside and goes to work on his buttons, pretending not to notice how his hands have gone to the back of her dress and are inching the zipper down, bit by bit. The cold air hits her exposed back and she shivers.

When the zip is all the way down to her waist, Mike leans forward across her, and kisses her newly bared shoulder. "That wasn't really my point Tee," he presses, teasing the material off her shoulders and down her arms; then it's bunched at her waist and her breasts are exposed and pale in the chilly room. He waits until she's got his shirt all the way undone, then tugs her closer so they lay skin-to-skin, contact warming them both. "I just…I get that you two are close and have known each other forever but what I don't get is…why he thinks I'm going to hurt you."

He sounds so despondent then – so weary. Trailing her fingers down his naked abs, Tina shrugs her shoulders. "Because p-people have hurt me before. Hurt b-both of us before." Pushing herself away from him, she edges off the bed and stands up, letting her dress drop to the floor. In her black underwear, she wraps her arms about her chilled ribs and drops her chin to look down at her feet. Her bare toes scuff against the thin carpeting.

"Tina?"

"When we were in H-high School to you know what p-people called us?" she asks, even though she knows there's no way he could know. So she answers herself. "The g-gay and the goth. Fag and Stutterfly. And those were the nice ones." She laughs, slightly and bitterly, and still can't meet his eyes. "W-when we were in Sophomore year one of the f-football players took offence to Kurt. N-not anything he d-did or said, just to him. He got b-beat up so many times…and if I was there…well you think they'd go easy on a g-girl."

Mike's voice is barely a breath. "Tina…"

She shrugs her shoulders hard. "I g-got shoved to the floor and against lockers, t-tripped, slushied – that's where they'd throw these icy d-drinks in your face? – I had my stuff s-stolen out of my locker. Things written about m-me on b-bathroom walls and in the guys' locker room. But it was…r-right after Homecoming, and Kurt and I'd b-been to the game because, b-believe it or not, we actually wanted to j-join in the school spirit. But some guys…they j-jumped him in the p-parking lot. Fractured his wrist in three p-places. It still b-bothers him when the weather gets b-bad."

When she finishes speaking she takes a really deep breath, and lets it out. Mike doesn't say anything, but he's pulled his body up to sitting and faces her, his legs crossed and his face contorted in a frown.

"Kurt and I are c-close because we d-didn't have anyone else. And he w-worries about me b-being hurt because…" she trails off, licking her lips, and pushes her loose hair back from her forehead. "He worries."

There's a long silence, and then Mike says simply, "Okay."

Tina nods her head and allows him to reach out and take her hand and tug her gently so she crawls back onto the bed; he wraps his arms around her while she straddles his waist and her arms go around his neck, and she breathes in the warm familiar scent of his skin. His hands rub up and down her back as she clings to him. "Spider Monkey," he teases fondly, kissing her collarbone.

They press lazy kisses to each other's lips and jaws and necks and ears for a long time, hands staying mostly on backs and shoulders and waists. It's gentle and slow-paced and low burning, and when Mike's hands move up her ribs and brush the outside of her breasts she moans against his mouth. "You still have your jeans on," she notes somewhat absently, her fingers tangled in his hair and his trailing down her ribs.

"Yeah," he acknowledges, his finger tracing around her belly button. "You said you were tired."

She laughs then – partly because his ministrations tickle and partly because his words amuse her. Taking his hand, she places it back on her panties where he had touched her so fleetingly before they'd gone to lunch. "Two days," she reminds him, biting down on his earlobe in a way she knows makes him semi-hard in an instant.

Mike seems to be spurred to action then. Flipping them, he presses her back into the mattress and trails kisses all down her body. His tongue runs over the thin material of her underwear, making it damp and clingy and he teases her through the cotton.

"You *still* have your jeans on," she grouches, propping herself up on her elbows and looking at him sternly, her hair falling over her shoulders in waves.

He laughs at her impatience, breath tickling her inner thigh, and kneels up and away from her long enough that he can undo the button and drag down the zip. He has to shimmy his hips slightly to get the tight denim down and the sight of it makes Tina flop back on the pillows and laugh. Hard.

But then he's kicking them off his feet and Tina didn't even realise that his underwear had gone at the same time; he's leaning over her and she can feel him brushing against the wetted, clinging cotton of her underwear. "Better?" he asks, words tickling her ear, and she can't help but nod her head, one hand clutching his bicep but the other snaking across her body to play with her own nipple.

"Better," she agrees, still slightly grinning. "One of these days I want a full show."

Pulling back just enough that he can watch her touch herself, he raises his eyebrow. "One of these days, so do I."

Her eyebrow quirks then, and a smile pulls at the corner of her lips. "Do you?"

"Yeah…"

She pats the pillow next to her head. "Lie back." He's smart enough to listen, lifting himself away from her and laying down so he's got a full view of her body. The fingers of her left hand still trail across her body, teasing and occasionally pinching at her nipples, and Mike watches as she lets her eyes flutter closed, her hips pressing subtly into the mattress as she tips her pelvis. "I do this when you're not here," she tells him like a confession, opening one eye and tilting her head so she can watch him watching her. "I usually think of you."

"Only usually?"

"Johnny Depp sometimes manages to work his way in there, I won't lie."

Mike laughs then, getting comfortable up on his elbow, head propped in his palm. "We'll have to see about that."

She's only half listening as the fingers on one hand pinch at her nipple, and the fingers of her other hand skate down her ribs, lightly feathering touches across her stomach. His body itches to touch her, kiss her – _anything__ – _but he holds himself back and just watches. Her fingers dance across her hipbones and then slide between her legs, easing down her thigh and then dragging her touch back up over her underwear.

"Not underneath?" he asks, and even he can hear the tension in his voice.

She shakes her head, hair fluttering against the pillows. "Not at first," she tells him. "Never at first."

Her fingers move, teasing the damp cotton and the flesh underneath, rubbing in patterns and rhythms that Mike tries to memorize, because Tina's already squirming and rolling her hips. He watches, completely silent – the room filled with the sound of her heavy breathing – as she finally _finally_edges her panties over her hips and down her legs, kicking them free of her feet, and Mike can see that she's already so wet – _God__ – _as her fingers stroke firmly.

"What do you think about?" he asks, and even though it's taking all his self-restraint not to touch her, he can't help but lean over and kiss her neck, sucking gently.

She moans at the added sensation. "Your fingers," she admits as her own draw tiny circles against her clit. He realises that when he bites down on her neck her fingers spasm in their ministrations, and experiments a few times with the pressure of his mouth until she's mewling.

"What about my fingers?" he presses, moving his mouth down her body from her neck to her chest, where he pulls her fingers off of her breast and replaces them with his lips. It's a fail as far as the 'watching not touching' plan goes, but he doesn't really care because the minute he frees up her hand it travels down her body to join her other one at the apex of her legs.

Her voice is barely a whisper as he licks and sucks. "Inside me," she admits in a shaky breath as her own fingers do just that. "I imagine them inside me."

He groans against her skin then, one hand flattening against her stomach as he continues to tease her nipples with his tongue, and he can feel her muscles beginning to flutter under his touch. "Only my fingers?" The question is murmured into her breastbone and he licks a trail up her salty skin and then back down, stopping with his chin resting on her hipbone as he watches her fingers move and tease, one curling inside of her body, the other brushing the underside of her clit with the barest tip of her finger, and he'll remember from now on that that seems to be the spot that makes her heart speed up. He presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her inner thigh.

"Oh God." Her fingers falter then, and she twists her hips just slightly, as though searching out his lips. Sliding one hand behind her knee, he pulls her legs further apart and begins sucking on the soft, pale skin he finds. The skin begins to turn pink and purple and he bites down in a light nip. His nose occasionally bumps her hand and it's kind of awkward but neither of them care because Tina's breath is shallow in her chest and her fingers are stroking more firmly; Mike knows he should just let her finish but in the end he just can't help himself and he takes hold of her wrist and moves her hands, pinning them to the mattress by her sides. He holds her there for a second, just waiting, but she wriggles and tugs her hands out of his grasp. "Mike, please."

He releases her immediately, and in the next breath slides two fingers inside her – a thrust, no waiting around – and latches his lips on her clit, sucking hard as he strokes the underside with the tip of his tongue.

There's yet to be an encounter between them where Tina's failed to come, but Mike takes pride in it every time. The way her back arches and her nipples harden and she rakes her hands through her hair, calling out to him and God and cursing with words he doesn't need to know to understand. The way her hips tilt up towards him – as though inviting his entry – and her inner muscles clench around his fingers, grasping like a greedy child is enough to almost make him spill everything he has against her comforter.

He keeps his mouth on her, his tongue caressing and his fingers carefully rubbing inside of her, and really he wonders if he'll ever have the time to see just how many times he can make Tina come in one night. She's _so_awesome, _so_responsive, so easy to be close to because it's fun and it's hot and they fit together like nothing he's ever experienced before. And seeing her like this – body shaking, chest heaving, thighs damp and hickey-bruised – he can't decide whether he wants to ravage her until she can't walk, or hold her until she falls asleep. Or both.

In that moment he's a millisecond away from saying three little words – and the realisation of that takes him by surprised - but then Tina props herself up on her elbows and quirks her eyebrow. "Are you being a martyr for a reason?" she asks, her voice still ragged, and when he wiggles his fingers inside of her – just to see what'll happen – she curses softly.

Not moving just yet, he draws his tongue agonisingly slowly across her slick flesh and swollen clit in one, long lick. "Just enjoying myself," he assures her, but finally – after one more sharp suck that makes her hips buck half a foot off the covers – he pulls himself up right. Then slowly, shuffling back on his knees until he hits the end of the bed, he reaches out and wraps his hands around her ankles, and gently tugs her until she slides down– helping him with a wiggle of her hips – and stops with her butt right at the edge of the mattress. Then he stands on the floor and draws her legs around his waist as he pushes inside of her. They both groan.

Two days really has been _far_too long, because he honestly thinks he'd spend every waking hour (and most of the sleeping ones) like this if he could. The angle – and his height advantage – means she's tipped up towards him, displayed, and he has a firm grip on her hips as he thrusts into her. He can feel himself hitting up against resistance and tries to stop pushing quite so deep, but then Tina's moaning and pinching her nipples again and doesn't seem to mind, and if she doesn't then he certainly isn't stopping. She's _so_tight around him, her legs tense around his waist and pushes their hips even closer together and Mike feels his knees buckle as his orgasm hits him like a 2x4; he actually falls forward onto the bed, catching himself on his hands so he leans over her and changes the angle as his hips finish their frenetic spasms.

It takes him a minute to catch his breath – and damn, he can still see spots – but then he rolls them onto their sides, pushing up the mattress so at least his feet don't hang off the end. "You didn't come again," he notes after kissing her long and hard, his hands stroking through her hair, easing out the tangles with his fingers. He presses a kiss to the tip of her nose, and to each eyelid as she snuggles against him.

"Did already," she yawns, wiggling her leg between his and pulling his arm around her so she can nestle into his body, her head resting on his warm chest. Her arms go around his waist and she breathes deeply as she listens to the sound of his still slowing heart. "Not a competition."

He pulls the blankets up over them, tucking it around her shoulder because her skin is cool to the touch in the evening air and he knows she sleeps cold. "Just want you to feel good," he tells her simply, kissing her forehead. The three little words from earlier seem to prick at his tongue, but in sleepy post-orgasmic haze, he's not quite sure this is the moment. So he lets them settle back down into his throat, waiting.

"I do already," she assures him, unaware of his inner decision making. A yawn takes over her body and he can feel her flex against him and her arms squeeze him slightly.

"Spider Monkey," he teases, resting his head atop of hers.

She presses her face into his chest and grumbles, but doesn't let go. "Go to sleep."

Three little words dance on his tongue, but he listens to her and closes his eyes and if he holds her a little tighter than normal, she doesn't seem to notice.

xXx


	5. Chapter 5

Remember, comments are always appreciated. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!

xXx

"Holy hell do you ever look like sin on a stick."

Santana's amused voice sounds from the door to the locker room as he fiddles with the combination lock, and he can't help but shoot her a glare over his shoulder. "What do you need Santana?"

She sidles into the room, dropping onto one of the squashy chairs and dangling her feet over the side. Her white sneakers are bright in the dimly lit room. "Nothing much," she admits honestly. "I just saw your lady friend dropping you off and thought I'd come see how your 'meet the parents' lunch went."

"It wasn't her parents," he corrects, pulling the door open and shoving his backpack inside, sliding his jacket off his shoulders with a wince. After a good night's sleep he and Tina had both gotten up for work, and it had felt freakishly normal to stand next to her as they brushed their teeth side-by-side; him making faces at her in the mirror and making her laugh a foamy, minty laugh. Minty laughter had turned into minty kissing and then her minty tongue wrapped around his cock, and before he knew it he had her pressed against the bathroom door, her legs around his waist and her nails digging into his shoulders.

Santana quirks an eyebrow and fiddles with the ties on her purple scrub bottoms. "Whatever. How did it go?"

He turns around to face her and rakes a hand through his hair leaving it sticking up in at least six different directions. "It went… okay."

"You don't sound very convinced."

His shoulders shrug and he toys with the stethoscope in his hands. "Kurt didn't exactly declare us allies, but I think there was a tentative détente. Or at least the beginnings of one."

Rolling her eyes, Santana raises her palms. "And in English that means?"

"God Santana, didn't you take History in High School?"

"No, I was popular and had lots of sex in High School. So does he still hate you or what?"

Mike laughs at that, pulling his t-shirt over his head and tossing it so it hits her square in the face. "I think we're past the hate," he admits. "He's not my number one fan, but I'm at least not worried that he's going to stab me in the middle of the night. And I think I… get the whole thing a bit better now." His words are somewhat cryptic and Santana's about to ask about them but then he turns around to grab a clean scrub top out of his locker and her attention is completely diverted.

She bursts out in laughter. "Wanky wanky wanky!" she chants, jumping up from her chair and hopping towards Mike. Grabbing his new shirt out of his hands before he has the chance to stop her, she ducks under his arm, pressing her cool, small hand against his shoulder blades. "Those are some war wounds," she clucks her tongue, tracing along the bright red scratch marks. "Your kitten's got claws. I mean, from the porno vampire outfits I would have guessed it but I'm impressed."

Mike blushes scarlet. "_Santana.__" _

"What? Like I don't know you have a wanky side a mile wide? You're a clean cut Asian doctor with an insane work ethic and the body of a Greek god. Of course you're kinky as fuck."

He shoves her, lightly, in the shoulder. "Can I have my shirt back?"

"Does this mean I'm not getting details?"

"Get out, Santana."

She seems to realise he's done playing because she just reaches up and pats his cheek, handing him back his shirt. "I'm glad it went okay," she says honestly, and then slaps him on the butt as she walks away. "By the way, Matt's looking for you. Crazy Jerry's back and asking for his favourite doctor!"

Pulling his shirt over his head, Mike can't help but curse.

xXx

"You know Mike's actually a g-good guy, right?"

Tina's fingers dip into the red bowl that sits between their pyjama-clad bodies on the couch – popping a piece of white fluffy popcorn between her lips – as she watches the TV and one of the Project Runway contestants trying to make a dress out of aquarium tubing. Cocking her head to the side, she considers that with the right shoes and earrings it wouldn't be half bad.

Kurt watches as she sticks her fingers in her mouth, sucking off the lingering traces of butter, and he can't help but find if vaguely obscene. "I know you think so."

Rolling her eyes, Tina throws a handful of popcorn at him. It bounces off his forehead and scatters into his lap and onto the floor. "Hey!" Kurt brushes the kernels from his sweat-pant-clad lap.

Turning her body, Tina fiddles with the hem of her baggy yoga pants, legs crossed in front of her. "I think so, the hospital he w-works for thinks so, your own b-boyfriend thinks so and if you l-let yourself stop b-being an over-protective ass for t-two seconds I'm p-pretty sure you w-would think so too."

With a sigh, Kurt picks up the remote and clicks at the tv, and Tim Gunn freezes on screen. "Are we going to do this now?"

Moving the popcorn bowl onto the table, Tina pulls her legs up to her chest, her chin resting atop her knees. She looks tiny all curled up in a ball and _screams_defensive. "M-maybe we should. He kn-knows you d-don't like him."

"I don't _know_him."

Tina feels her shoulders tense then and words shoot from between her lips. "Well Kurt, we c-can't all d-date guys we m-met in High School! Mike's t-trying with you. At lunch yesterday he tried so hard to g-get to know you, t-to give you a chance to g-get to know him."

He can hear her stutter affecting more of her words than usual, and he curses inwardly as guilt washes through him because he knows it's a sign of frustration and stress. Which - as someone who claims he's worried about her wellbeing – is the last thing he wants to cause her. Moving his hand just a fraction, he slides it over her cold bare foot and squeezes her ankle. "I'll try harder," he promises.

Nodding her head, strands of hair escape Tina's messy scrunchy bun and fall to brush her cheeks. She blows them away with a gentle puff of air from her lips. "I r-really like him," she admits softly, resting her cheek on her knee. "M-maybe more than like."

Kurt's eyes close briefly then – dark eyelashes fluttering against porcelain cheeks – and he draws a long, slow breath in. "I thought, maybe," he confesses. "Your smile when you look at him…" he trails off, opening his eyes so his emerald gaze crashes with her dark eyes. "I haven't seen you look that way in a really long time."

His thumb rubs a small circle on her ankle and she knows what this restrained touching means. He's searching for contact – for security – and she suddenly realises that at least a part of his unease has nothing to do with her safety. She curses herself for not realising before now. "You know he's n-not going to replace you," she promises gently, scooting over so she can rest her head on his shoulder. She slides her hand into his warm palm and squeezes his fingers.

"Yes, he is," Kurt tells her, but it doesn't sound as angry or withdrawn as he has in the last couple of weeks. He sounds wearier, resigned.

"Kurt - "

"No, he is, and I should get over it. I'm not your knight in shining plaster cast armour anymore Tina, or the person you should be sharing all your thoughts and feelings with. And I think it's time… maybe… that starts being okay." He wraps an arm around her shoulder, tugging Tina in closer to his side. "But you're always going to be my Single Lady, okay? And however this ends – amicable, broken hearted, or the two of you spawning your own dynasty – I'm here. Always. Okay?"

Tears prick at Tina's eyes – forever the easy crier – and she nods her head. "I kn-know." She sniffles slightly, wiping her tears against the soft cotton of his shoulder. "I'm here too."

"Sure," he says, and his voice is soft but familiarly teasing and he sounds _so_much more like the Kurt she's used to. "If you can drag yourself out of the bedroom long enough. And don't think I don't know what the two of you are getting up to in the shower. I have ears."

"Kurt!"

"I'm just saying, you better be cleaning it thoroughly after he has his wicked way with you in there."

Tina giggles against his shoulder, strap of her pale pink tank top slipping down her shoulder and she hooks her thumb underneath and tugs it back up. "Actually I've been having my w-wicked way with him," she teases, waggling her eyebrows.

Kurt groans then, clapping his hands over his ears. "Ack! I did _not_need to know that."

Crawling over his knees, she pokes him in the sides. "Sometimes we have our w-wicked way with each other," she teases, tickling the bare strip of flesh under his t-shirt and he yelps and tries to wriggle away from her touch as he laughs. "Sometimes I have m-my wicked way with m-myself and j-just let him watch."

She's sprawled half on top of him then, fingers still relentlessly ticking and he's yelping and laughing and his hands are still clamped over his ears. "Lalalaaaa I can't hear you!" he sings loudly.

Tina grabs his hands, trying to tug them off of his head but Kurt is strong and they basically end up wrestling on the couch. "We have sex!" she yells, and in the middle of their tug-of-war Kurt kind of stills and his arms go slack, and Tina realises why she's been pressing the issue so hard. She takes a deep breath and winds her arms around his neck, pressing her face into his shoulder. "We have sex," she reiterates in a barely audible whisper. "We d-do it and it's okay."

Kurt breathes a deep, shuddering sigh, and then his arms wrap around her back. "Only okay?" he replies, and she can hear the hitch in his voice that says he's fighting tears but he's trying to tease so she nuzzles her nose into his skin.

"Way m-more than okay."

Sprawled on the sofa together, Kurt tugs the blanket off the back and over their legs, shifting until she is comfortably against his chest. "I'm happy for you," he tells her. And even though she can tell he isn't, not _quite,_not yet, she knows he will be.

"Thank you."

xXx

It's not a usual occurrence that Mike and Matt _and_Sam and Santana all get the same shift off, but it's the majestic, rare occurrence that happens to coincide with the joyous (if slightly painful) occasion of Matt's 30th birthday.

Mike's squeezed into a booth with Sam and one hand is wrapped his beer and the other is slid into his jeans pocket resting against his phone. He knows Tina finishes at the Drop-In Centre at 6 and she said she'd try and meet them at the bar if she got cleared up in good time and none of the kids needed her to stick around. Sam's flirting with one of the medical students that had somehow followed them along, but Mike can't help but watch Matt and Santana dancing together to the piped in music. She has not her first beer clutched in her hand and her dance move looks like a cross between riding a horse and being shot in the foot. Matt's just bopping his head and occasionally playing the air drums and Mike can't help but muffle a laugh against his hand.

Santana catches sight of him then and waves her arms. "Changster! Come bust a move!" she yells, wiggling her butt in his direction, which does nothing to entice him or to help his laughter. It bursts from his lips and he shakes his head.

"I'm good," he waves her off, even though his feet are tapping out the rhythm under the table, and he can feel his body swaying to the beat.

Across the table, Sam raises an eyebrow. "You're practically dancing already. Santana!" he yells, and Mike curses at him but he completely ignores it. "Come dance with this poor man would ya?"

Mike's trying to protest but then Santana's grabbing his arm and dragging him up and okay, Usher starts playing on the stereo and it's a _really_good tune; he spins Santana under his arm and lets his feet move across the floor and it's a good thing everyone's halfway drunk because he doesn't usually let himself dance like this in front of people. But his body feels the rhythm and the pulse and it feels _so__good_to let go after the crazy week he's had. He laughs as Matt picks up Santana and spins her around and then she's back on the floor and stumbling towards him and he just manages to grab her and dip her right as the song ends.

"If I kn-knew this was the floor show I w-would have come sooner."

The words break through their laughter and Mike spins on his heel to find Tina standing there, a red knitted beanie pulled over her dark hair and pink cardboard box in her hands, and a bright, amused smile on her face.

"Tina!" he greets, and can hear the excitement in his own voice as he crosses the makeshift dance floor and cups her wind-chilled cheeks in his palms, pressing his lips against hers. "You made it."

"I did," she agrees, shifting the box in her grip so her hand can rest atop his on her cheek. "And I brought cake."

"Really?"

He sounds honestly astounded and she laughs, flipping the lid of the box open to reveal row upon row of perfectly iced red cupcakes, each with a jellybean on the top. "You c-can't have a birthday p-party without cake," she insists. "I m-made these with some of the k-kids this afternoon." Taking one out, she holds it out to him. "W-we used my friend Puck's grandmother's recipe – he swears by it. W-want one?"

Mike can't help but look between the simple red cupcake in her hand and the easy smile on Tina's face, and his heart does a strange flip-flop in his chest. "We should let the birthday boy have one first," he grins, taking the box out of her hands and then turning his head towards where Matt and Santana are doing a complicated Macarena/hand-jive hybrid to Guns and Roses. "Matt!" he yells, beckoning him over, and Matt grins as he recognises Tina.

He bounds over, completely forgetting the pointy pink party-hat he's wearing at a rakish angle on his head, glittery streamers tickling his ear. "We haven't been properly introduced," Matt says with a quirked smile and a smooth voice, reaching out and taking her hand, kissing atop her stripy fingerless glove. "My name is Dr Matthew Rutherford, birthday boy and lover extraordinaire," he jokes with a wink, and it's so carefree and easygoing that Tina can't help but laugh and blush.

"I'm Tina," she greets warmly as he straightens up, and tucks a strand of loose hair behind her ear as she holds out the cupcake. "Happy B-birthday."

It doesn't seem possible but Matt's face lights up even more as he takes the proffered cake. "You brought me cake?"

"She made it," Mike corrects, sliding his arm around Tina, his hand resting lightly on her hip. "Made a whole box."

"I h-hope there's enough for everyone," she says, nervously biting on her lip – and _God,_Mike just wants to steal her into a dark corner and bite on her lip because how can she be _this_considerate and _this_gorgeous all at once and still somehow want to be with _him?_ She looks around the bar and then down at the box that Mike has put on the table.

But Matt doesn't seem to mind too much. He jumps on the balls of his sneakered feet, waving his hand in the air. "Hey, San? Sam? Tina brought cupcakes! Check it out!"

As the two nurses approach, he hands each of them a red-iced cupcake and takes a large bite of his, watching as Santana sticks her thumb in the frosting and then pops it in her mouth. It smears on her lip and matches her red tank top and she groans in delight. "Oh my god these are amazing." She licks off more of the icing and Tina notices Matt watching with his mouth half open and Mike nudges him in the ribs.

It seems to bring him to his senses and he remembers his manners. "Thank you," he says sincerely, as Sam reaches over and sneaks another one out of the box, handing them out to the gathering throng. "This is the nicest thing."

Santana nods her agreement and Tina shrugs, suddenly shy, her cheeks flaring pink and a small smile gracing her lips. "It was n-no t-trouble," she assures them, leaning into Mike just slightly.

"You want a drink?" Matt offers, shoving the rest of his cupcake in his mouth and having to hold his hand in front of his lips as the crumbs escape.

"Classy dude," Mike can't help but laugh, and Tina does too.

"A b-beer would be good?" she agrees with a nod, and Matt's off like a shot towards the bar, his pink hat bobbing on his head. Santana trails behind him calling for her own beer and he waves in acknowledgement just before Sam grabs her to dance the Time Warp.

Grinning, Mike slides his arms around Tina's waist and lets his thumbs trace over the small slither of skin left bare between her black t-shirt and her red plaid pants at the small of her back. "You're amazing."

"Because I can m-make cakes?" she laughs, hooking her arms behind his neck and letting him sway her gently to the music as the track changes. She rubs the collar of his pale green shirt between her thumb and forefinger.

"Because you took the time to make cakes for a guy you don't even know," he clarifies, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of her pants. "You didn't have to."

Quirking a small smile, Tina shrugs one shoulder. "He's your b-best friend. And everyone deserves c-cake on their birthday."

He knows she's trying to brush the praise aside but that doesn't stop him leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to her lips that she happily responds to.

"Ack! No me gusta!" Santana's voice sounds from right next to Mike and startles him enough that he pulls away from Tina. She has three beers in her hand and a frown on her face; holding them out for Mike to take, he takes one and hands the other to Tina and is taken aback when Santana reaches out and wraps her fingers around his girlfriend's wrist. "Now, I want you to come over here and tell Auntie 'Tana all about the wanky Asian Fusion you guys get up to."

Tina looks slightly surprised and Mike smacks his hand against his forehead. "Be _nice_Santana."

Rolling her eyes, the Latina woman just laughs. "I'm kidding. _God._Can't I want to get to know your girlfriend?" She waggles her eyebrows and tugs Tina after her who looks over her shoulder at Mike with a confused half-smile but follows none the less.

"Oh God," Mike drops back into his seat next to Sam, who's still licking frosting from his fingers.

"Okay?" he asks, bringing his bottle of beer to his lips to wash down the crumbs, and frowns as he takes in Mike's pallor. "Dude, what's up?"

Head in hand, Mike points across the bar. "Santana has just stolen my girlfriend for a 'lady chat'."

Sam's face contorts in horrified understanding. "Oh God."

"See?"

"What are you going to do?"

Sighing, Mike takes a long pull of his beer. "Only thing I can do," he shrugs, resigned. "Let them be but be ready and waiting when she's done with her."

xXx

"She's soooooo nice!"

Tina's voice is loud and giggly as Mike steers her towards a chair, his arm under her shoulders in an attempt to keep her walking straight, because her feet are being largely uncooperative.

"Tina, she's got you ridiculously drunk." Mike's a tiny bit irritated but mostly amused, because Tina's probably the happiest drunk he's ever encountered and all evening has kept stopping to exclaim at things, like the moon through the bar window or pretty much every song that's played ("Oh my god this is such a _j-jam!__"__)_, and she gushed for five whole minutes about the colour of Sam's hair while she ran her fingers through it and he just laughed.

Grabbing Mike's hand, she jumps up and spins around underneath it, laughing brightly. "They have j-jello shots!" she recalls excitedly, moving her hips in time to the music in a way that Mike finds adorable and completely hot at the same time. "I love jello shots!"

He tries to stay frowning at her but he can't. Her pink cheeks and slightly glassy eyes and wide smile are way too adorable, and he finds himself grinning despite himself. "I know you do babe," he tells her, stepping back and watching as she spins and twirls in the middle of the dance floor, ignoring completely the driving R&B rhythm of the song.

"She c-cares about you, you know that?" Tina offers up as her hair whips behind her back. "We talked about m-music and work and clothes but I think she j-just wanted to check I was g-good enough for you."

He grabs her mid-twirl, pulling her flush against him, and she crashes into his chest with a giggle. "Deja vu," he murmurs with a quirk of his eyebrow and Tina grips the smooth cotton of his shirt in her fists. "So how do you think you did?"

She's staring at his throat, at the triangle of skin that's visible above the loosened knot of his black tie, and doesn't seem to hear his words. "Hmm?"

Reaching up, he pushes her hair behind her ear, trailing his finger down her neck. "Do you think Santana thought you were good enough for me?"

Tina seems to consider this for a moment, licking her lips slowly and lifting her shoulders in a shrug. "I d-don't know," she offers aloud, but then leans back from Mike's firm chest and looks around the bar. Spotting Santana sitting in a booth between Matt and Sam – the pink party hat now firmly atop her dark hair – Tina calls out. "Hey, Santana?"

"Yeah babe?" Santana calls back, her head on Matt's broad shoulder and the neck of her beer bottle resting on her bottom lip.

Tina pulls away from Mike and stumbles towards the table, and avoids falling into it only because of Sam's steady hands. "Whoa," he laughs, easing her into the booth next to him with a gentle guiding touch. Mike follows her, shaking his head and rubbing at the back of his neck, but his lips still quirk upwards.

"Do you think I'm g-good enough for Mike?" Tina queries, propping her chin on her palm. "He was wondering. He d-doesn't believe me that we b-bonded."

Santana's face splits into a smile, and she reaches across the table, patting Tina's hand. "This girl is fucking awesome," she tells Mike – and Matt and Sam and anyone within a hearing radius – with a definite tone. "You know she knows all the words to 'Back to Black'?"

"And this is important because…?" Sam laughs, but is silenced by Santana's curt glare. He quickly raises his palms in submission. "Okay, okay, it's important."

"She's smart, she can bake, and she can rock the Goth look without looking like some Wednesday Addams wannabe or a under-cooked reject from a Twilight convention." Pointing towards Tina with her beer bottle, Santana nods her head. "It's hot. She's got my vote."

Mike's rolling his eyes but Tina's looking ridiculously proud and she grins in Santana's direction. "I hope you and Matt have lots of awesome b-birthday sex," she offers, and doesn't understand when it makes everyone around the table burst in to laughter.

Matt slides his arm around Santana's shoulder and sighs deeply as she presses her nose against his. They both grin widely. "In my dreams, right babe?"

She pats his cheek, puckering her lips and kissing his cheek fondly. "Your very best dreams," she agrees.

Tina looks around the group, her face crumpled in confusion, and then up at Mike. "D-did I say something wrong?"

He slides into the booth next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "Santana's not with Matt," he explains quietly, unable to stop the laughter bubbling up and over his lips as he says the words.

It doesn't help Tina's confusion. "But they seem so…"

Nodding his head, Mike squeezes her slightly. "I know. But that's just their way. They've always been like that with each other."

She leans into him, her face near his shoulder, and drops her voice to a whisper. She looks almost sad. "Why *aren't* they together then?"

There's a flurry of noise at the entrance – and laughing voices – and Mike sees Santana's ears prick up at the sound. Craning his head he spies a flash of golden blonde hair walk through the door. "Actually, you're about to find out."

There's barely a split second passes before Santana's face breaks into the widest smile Tina's seen, and then she's crawling across Matt's lap with abandon, throwing her arms around the person who has just arrived at their table. "Hi," Santana greets the blonde, bright and breathy and then their lips meet in a kiss that is at once warm and excited and full of passion. Santana hands cling and she presses her whole body into the kiss.

Tina's jaw drops open, just a fraction, and understanding floods through her. "Oh."

When she finally pulls back, Santana's cheeks are pink and her hair is mussed and her lipstick smudged, but she links pinkies with the woman next to her.

"Tina, this is Brittany."

XXx

"You should be ashamed of me," Tina murmurs into the back of Mike's ear as he picks her up in a piggy back, her arms looping around his neck and her legs locking around his hips. "I was m-making hetero… hetero…. heteronormative 'ssumptions."

Mike laughs as he collects his jacket and her messenger bag from the cloakroom, shoving one inside the other and looping the strap over his shoulder. "You're the only person I know who could use a word like 'heteronormative' after that many beers," he acknowledges, half amused, half proud. "Besides, I should have told you."

"N-none my business," she argues, shaking her head, but the words are belied by her peeking over his shoulder to where the blonde and the brunette are snuggled together in a booth, foreheads touching and lips burbling giggles, meeting in light kisses as their fingers tangle together. "She seems nice."

"Brittany?" Mike clarifies, and Tina nods her head again as he shifts her further up his back. "Yeah, she is. She's great. And she make's Santana crazy happy."

Tina smiles at that, wrapping her arms more securely around his neck. "That's good."

Grabbing Matt's eye across the room, Mike waves his goodbyes, indicating his girlfriend wrapped around his torso, and Matt laughs in acknowledgement, giving him a thumbs up. Mike can't help but notice the redhead making eyes at him across the bar as she mixes something in a shaker and as soon as Matt turns back to her she laughs at something he says. Typical. Mike pats Tina's linked hands. "Come on Spider Monkey, let's get you home."

xXx


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you for all your continued support! All the Tike love!

(Also, apologise for people who were alerted for this twice. There was a problem with the formatting of italics and it was driving me crazy.)

* * *

><p>'Aladdin' plays on the tv in the background of the apartment and Tina's singing softly to 'A Whole New World' as she dishes the jar of strained peaches into the yellow plastic flower-shaped bowl that she keeps in the cupboard just for these occasions.<p>

"Looks yummy," Tina prompts – lying fiercely because the pile of gelatinous orange goo looks far from appetising – and the small girl sitting across from her seems to know it's not true; she quirks an eyebrow and pouts. When Tina lifts a spoon to her mouth the little girl shakes her head, turning it away from the offering.

Sighing, Tina puts the spoon down. "Come on sweetie it's all w-we have left. Eat it today and I promise I'll never b-buy the peaches again."

She knows it's ridiculous, bargaining with a one-year-old, but it seems the only thing Tina can do in that moment. Picking up the spoon she tries again, but Beth keeps her lips clamped tightly shut. Sighing, Tina puts the spoon down and moves the bowl to the sink. "Toast instead?" she offers and Beth breaks into a smile then, smacking her hands against the tray of her highchair. Tina laughs. "You are so your p-parents' daughter."

Tina bustles around the kitchen, grabbing bread from the refrigerator and dropping it into the toaster, all the while keeping up a running commentary of conversation as Beth babbles back. "Mamamamama," the little girl says as she waves her hands around, beating them against the plastic in a not-quite rhythm. Her blonde curls bounce around her head. "Mamama."

Grabbing the toasted bread as it pops up, Tina nods her head. "Mommy and Daddy'll be b-back in a little while," she assures the little girl. "Daddy's being an old-fashioned romantic," she teases, buttering the toast and cutting it into small squares, placing the plate in front of the girl. "And Mommy's enjoying it."

As soon as the plate is down, Beth grabs at the bread and shoves it towards her mouth. Melting butter smears across her face and crumbs fall down her chin and onto her dress. "Not a good l-look," Tina laughs, brushing Beth's cheek with a swipe of her thumb.

"Bababa?"

With her tone and the cocking of her head it's an obvious question, so Tina brushes her curls gently back from her forehead. "Yes, m-much better now."

Beth grins as she shoves another square of toast into her mouth.

Tina laughs, pulling her hair back into a tight, high ponytail and securing it with the elastic around her wrist as Beth continues to get crumbs all over her hands and face and in her curly hair. When she finishes her toast, Beth holds her hands up towards Tina. "Neee!" she giggles, wiggling her fingers, and Tina can't say no to her. Hooking her hands under Beth's armpits she swings her up out of her highchair.

They dance around the room for a few moments, Tina holding Beth high above her head as she wiggles her toes and screeches with glee. She's just swung her arms, dangling Beth upside-down and both of them laughing, when she hears a key click into the lock and turn, and the door is pushed open.

Flipping them both upright, Tina shifts Beth to her hip as Mike stares at them; a half amused half surprised look on his face. "Something you forgot to tell me?"

"I thought you weren't off 'til 10?"

"That's Saturday," he corrects, sliding his key into his pocket. "Who's this?"

Looking between Beth's blonde curls and her boyfriend – who shuts the door behind him and drops his backpack on the floor – Tina can't help but smile. "This is Beth," she introduces, wiggling her fingers in a wave and prompting Beth to do the same. Beth just looks at her with a crinkled frown that makes Tina laugh. "M-my friend Quinn's d-daughter. I usually have her a c-couple n-nights a m-month."

"You haven't recently," he mentions, touching her cheek lightly, and she can hear the slight undertone of guilt in his voice. Because he knows he's the reason that her normal routine has changed so much. "I can go if you want some alone time?"

She rolls her eyes at him. "No, you d-don't need to go," she tells him, jiggling Beth slightly when she starts to fuss. The small girl's fingers grip in the material of Tina's oversized t-shirt. "We've all b-been busy. I have, and Quinn has, and Puck has and it's n-not your fault." Reaching out, she places her hand on his shoulder, leaning up to kiss him, "Hi." They both ignore the way Beth squawks from her place between them.

"Hi," he breathes back against her lips, taking one of Beth's small hands between his fingers and wiggling it. "You two look like you're having fun?"

"Mmm," she agrees, carrying Beth into the living room area and setting her down on the floor, letting the small girl clutch at her fingers as she takes steps across the soft carpeting. "We p-played with some blocks, watched Aladdin, ate t-toast. We were j-just thinking about b-bath time and j-jammies."

Mike can't help but just stand and watch for a while as Tina walks Beth around the apartment. A bright smile stretches across her face and she breaks into laughter when Beth lets go of her fingers and plops onto the floor, a look of surprise on her face. "Hasn't quite got the walking thing down yet?"

Looking up at him, Tina grins. "We're w-working on it." Beth gets distracted by one of her blocks on the floor, stacking them together and then knocking them down with a giggle and a strike of her fist. Tina sits cross-legged opposite her, handing her the blocks one at a time to rebuild. "So how w-was your day?"

Mike eases himself down behind Tina with a wince and wraps his arm around her waist. Leaning forward, he presses a kiss against her cotton-clad shoulder. "Uneventful, for a change," he murmurs, tugging her closer to him so she sits between the v of his legs and her back leans against his chest. "A broken leg, some stitches, a few cases of the flu." He nuzzles his nose against the nape of her neck, kissing the top bump of her spine that shows just over the collar of her t-shirt. "What about you?"

She turns her head slightly, making it easier for him to kiss down the side of her neck. "G-good." She sighs in appreciation of his actions, especially when his hand slips under her t-shirt and rubs across her stomach. "P-painting with the k-kids this morning, and then a m-meeting with my friend Artie at his g-gallery this afternoon. They've got some f-funding coming up for an exhibition and he thinks I should p-put myself forward."

He actually pulls his hands away in surprise. "That's fantastic."

Tina nods her head. "I d-don't know what's going to happen b-but it could be really exciting." He can see her trying to stop the grin from blossoming over her lips, and can't help but tilt her chin towards him, kissing her soundly on the mouth.

Beth takes that opportunity to launch herself at Tina, toppling into her lap and laughing. The skirt of her dress rumples and ruffles with the movement, green flowers ebbing around her knees. Tina picks her up, kissing the top of her nose. "Someone is n-not used to sharing m-my attention."

Mike laughs at that. "I feel bad for interrupting your girls' night," he tells her, pulling himself up using the sofa for leverage. He wanders over to the refrigerator, taking out a bottle of water and twisting off the cap. His Adam's apple bobs as he drinks half of it down in one go.

Standing up, Tina swings Beth up onto her hip and reaches over to click off the tv. "Don't," she says simply. "As long as you don't mind entertaining yourself while we take a b-bath?"

The words make him break into a grin, but he just nods his head. "Of course," he agrees, easily. "You mind if I change and grab some food?"

"I l-left you some p-pasta."

There's a moment where the sheer domesticity of the scene strikes him, and he has to set his bottle of water down on the side and take a breath. Tina doesn't notice, because she's in the middle of Eskimo-kissing Beth, murmuring soft words to the little girl, but Mike feels it like a punch to the gut. "Thanks," he finally manages, and she waves him off with a quirked smile before disappearing down the hall.

He takes a moment, just leaning against the counter, and tries to figure out why his stomach is twisted and his heart is beating hard in his chest. It's _just_Tina. The same woman he saw the day before and the day before that. The same woman he'd woken up with that morning. But now, something feels…different. And with all his smarts – all his intelligence, all his knowledge – he can_not_put his finger on it.

Water runs down the hall, and he can hear splashing and Tina's laughter and a squawk that comes from Beth. Listening, he pulls the Tupperware out of the fridge and sets it heating in the microwave before heading down the hall to her bedroom. He peels his t-shirt off as he goes and can't help stopping for a second outside the bathroom door, listening to the sounds of giggling coming from inside. It brings a smile to his face and he ducks his chin to his bare chest and shakes his head.

In the bathroom, bubbles are piled up on Beth's head in a little foamy Mohawk and the water laps around Tina's midriff as she holds Beth steady. "You are my sunshine, my only sunshine, you make me happy when skies are grey," she sings to the little girl, who coos along, banging her hands against the surface of the water, making droplets splash up and onto Tina and onto the floor. Tina laughs, scooping up the water with her hands and dumping it on Beth's hair so the bubbles disperse; her curls flatten and she giggles, batting her wet, dark eyelashes against her cheeks.

Tina gently washes the little girl's body and then pulls the plug with a pop. The water swirls and gurgles around their bodies, and Tina waits until most of it has run out before pulling herself out of the bath and lifting Beth up. She wraps them both in a large towel, rubbing Beth's hair so it sticks up, and then wanders out of the bathroom and along the hall. She can hear the tv playing low, so she knows Mike must be curled up on the couch with his food, hopefully letting himself unwind.

In her bedroom, Tina lays Beth down on the bed and rummages around in the black bag that is ubiquitous whenever Beth is around, and finally finds her yellow fleecy duck pyjamas with the feet. Showing them to Beth, the little girl waves her hands and babbles. "Dudududuh!"

Tina manoeuvres Beth's toes inside first, ignoring the way the little girl kicks at her, and tickles her stomach as she slides her hands into the sleeves. Beth is already breathing slowly, her bare chest lifting and falling with long breaths as Tina does up the poppers on her sleeper.

After finishing dressing Beth, Tina shifts her to the middle of the double bed while she quickly pulls on her own pyjamas. Picking Beth up, she holds her against her chest, rubbing her back slowly and rocking back and forth on her heels. She sings softly into Beth's curly hair, " Golden slumbers kiss your eyes, smiles await you when you rise. Sleep, pretty baby, do not cry, and I will sing a lullaby."

"Abbey Road is a great album."

Mike's voice comes from the doorway and it surprises her because she didn't hear his bare feet on the thin carpeting. He stands, fingers curled over the top of the doorframe, his chest and shoulders looking impossibly broad but his voice is soft and a gentle smile plays on his lips.

She sneaks a peek down at Beth, who has fallen into a doze against her shoulder. "It is," she agrees with a smile.

Taking a step into the room, he drops one hand to his side and uses the other one the push a strand of hair behind her ear. "And you have a beautiful voice," he can't help but mention. "How did I not know that by now?"

"Because we're usually too b-busy in the shower for me to sing that m-much?"

That makes him laugh, and – sure that she's asleep – Tina leans over and puts Beth down in the middle of her bed, flanking her with pillows so she can't roll off the sides. Then she turns and wraps her arms around Mike's waist, and he wraps his around hers in an unconscious mirroring. They stand like that for a long moment, not saying anything, just enjoying the feel and the warmth of each other. Tina presses her head against the soft cotton of his t-shirt and can hear the low thrumming of his heartbeat in his chest.

She pulls away eventually, and tangles her fingers with his, the index finger of her other hand raised to her lips to indicate their silence as they leave the room. She pulls the door closed behind her – not all the way – and he lets her lead him into the living room where they collapse onto the sofa with their legs entwining; her bare skin rubbing along the soft worn flannel of his plaid lounge pants. The tv's still playing on low and his empty bowl still sits on the coffee table, but she doesn't prompt him to move it. Instead, she just leans against his chest and picks up the remote.

"Judge m-me if you want, b-but it's time for Jeopardy," she tells him, clicking the channel. She feels his laughter against her back as he wraps his arms around her waist, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of her pyjama shorts.

"Nothing wrong with Jeopardy," he assures her as she settles her head on his shoulder, and they both watch in silence as Alex Trebek appears on the screen. "Though I do miss his moustache."

Tina giggles, wiggling her toes. "I know, r-right?"

xXx

"What is _Othello,__" _Tina answers, and then throws her arms in the air when Alex Trebek gives the same answer to the stumped panel. Turning around, she bops Mike on the nose with her index finger and sashays her hips in his lap. "You looooose!"

"How did you know that?"

"How did you n-not know that?" she teases, reaching over for her glass of water and taking a long drink, all the while batting her eyelashes at him. "Where did you think the phrase came from?"

Mike ponders for a moment, shrugging his shoulders as he rakes his hand through his hair. "I don't know. Not Shakespeare!"

Throwing her head back Tina laughs, and the end of her ponytail tickles Mike's arm. "Mike, m-most modern euphemisms for sex come from Shakespeare. Didn't you p-pay attention in high school?" Her hand rests on his cotton-clad knee, squeezing gently, and she turns her body in his loose hold so she faces him. A wicked smile tickles the corner of her lips. "_'__Graze__ on __my __lips; __and __if __those __hills __be__ dry, __stray __lower, __where __the__ pleasant __fountains __lie__'_," she quotes with a low chuckle, sliding her arms around his neck and lacing her fingers together. Leaning her body in close, she presses a soft kiss to the side of his throat. "Clearly you should have p-paid better attention."

Letting his hands rub over her back, Mike laughs low and rich and warm. "If only they'd taught Shakespeare like this, I might have."

Their lips are together then; they completely ignore Final Jeopardy as Mike's hands slide around her hips, holding her firmly as she straddles his thighs. Pulling back, she murmurs more quotations into his mouth and – _God__ – _high school English Lit shouldn't be sexy but somehow it totally is. He reaches up to tug the end of her ponytail – gently – and it makes her tip her head back so the column of her pale throat is exposed and he runs a finger down the length of it. "I took AP Lit m-my Senior Year," Tina breathes as he follows the path of his finger with butterfly kisses. "If I m-memorised it then I c-could read it without stuttering."

He answers with a curious humming against the pulse point of her neck where his teeth scrape and his mouth sucks. "I took AP Biology," he murmurs into her skin, letting his hands wander from her hips, thumbs teasing the skin under her tank top. He pulls her closer with a jolt that makes her laugh out loud, and their hips press together. "And Physics."

Scraping her fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck in the way that makes him purr, she rocks on him, just fractionally. "What about Chemistry?" she teases.

He quirks an eyebrow before kissing her again, his hands splayed against her bare back. "I thought that was obvious."

She's giggling against his lips, hips against hips, and her fingers are just trailing along the top of his pants when she hears a snuffling come from down the hall and then the moment is broken by the sound of a pitiful wailing.

Mike curses softly, but Tina just pulls herself off of him – untangling her bare limbs from his – and heads down the hall, disappearing through the door and into the darkened room.

Beth lies in the middle of the bed; fists clenched, legs pulled up to her body and her face bright pink as she cries. Scooping her up, Tina holds her closely, rocking her back and forth. "Hey baby, don't cry," she murmurs, rubbing her hand up and down Beth's warm fleecy back. Her hands make quick work of checking the diaper, but when she's done Beth is still whimpering. "You're all clean and d-dry, I promise," Tina assures, keeping her voice very soft and melodic. She sways her body back and forth as Beth nuzzles into her chest, tiny fingers clutching at the thin material of her tank top, and Tina runs her index finger along Beth's flushed cheeks.

Instead of putting Beth back down on the bed – because she's still fussy despite her half-mast lashes – Tina carries her down the hallway and into the living room, but stops when she sees Mike. He's still lying on the sofa, but his head is tipped back and his hands fisted in his hair; he stares at the ceiling, silently mouthing words into the air.

"What are you d-doing?" she asks with a soft laugh, rocking Beth gently.

He doesn't move his head, but stops his lips for a moment. "Reciting the Periodic Table."

"Why?"

He does tip his head back down then, and arches his eyebrow pointedly, but says nothing.

"Oh," Tina laughs again, feeling a little guilty but mostly amused as she watches him try to wrest back control of his body. "Sorry about that," she says, but doesn't sound super sincere and she's clearly fighting laughter.

"You look really sorry."

Beth hiccups, and Tina lifts her a little higher against her chest. "M-maybe I should go turn the shower on for you? Nice and c-cold?" she teases.

His voice, when he answers, is a low growl but a smile quirks the edge of his lips. "How about we save the shower for when you can join me?"

"But I already t-took a bath."

It's flirty, and teasing, and said with a batting of her eyelashes that's enough to make Mike want to drag her back into the bedroom and pick up where they left off. But she's got the baby in her arms and Beth's still whimpering – rubbing at her eyes and nuzzling into Tina's shirt – and Mike's prompted to pull himself up and approach them. "Is she okay?" he asks, laying his hand against Beth's tiny forehead, but there's no sign of fever and Tina's just rubbing her back calmly.

"Mmm…t-teething," she assures with confidence, and then nods her head towards the refrigerator. "Would you get me some ice?"

He does, smacking the ice tray against the counter until a couple of the cubes fall out – scattering across the smooth grey surface – and then hands them to Tina. Holding one in her fingers, she bites it in half, keeping one part in her mouth and popping the other between Beth's lips. The little girl begins sucking furiously, and her cries stop. "You're good with her."

Shifting Beth so she rests against her shoulder, Tina laughs. "It's n-not rocket science Mike."

He's about to reply when they're interrupted by the sound of knocking on the door. A smile lingers on Tina's lips and she kisses the top of Beth's head. "Sounds like your Mommy and Daddy are back." Approaching the door, she stands on tiptoes to look through the peephole, and then pulls the door open.

Mike knows that Quinn is one of Tina's best friends, and Puck is her husband, and he's seen pictures dotted around the apartment, but he's still taken a little aback to meet them in person. Quinn's naturally blonde hair is streaked magenta and a silver stud glints in her nose, and he's kind of surprised to see a blue and white patterned dress peek out from beneath the hem of her coat. She has one of those flawless, girl-next-door faces that somehow seems incongruous with the dye and the tattoos, but it lights up when she sees Beth in Tina's arms.

"Hey!" Quinn greets with a large grin, wiping her feet on the mat and entering the apartment with almost a skip. "How's my girl?"

Quinn's eyes are fixed solely on Beth – which Mike is grateful for because it gives him a few minutes grace – and Tina hands her over without hesitation. "Grizzly."

"Teething? Sorry I forgot to tell you."

Shrugging, and watching as Quinn rocks her daughter and kisses the top of her head, Tina licks her lips and smiles. "No p-problem. How was d-dinner?"

Quinn groans, her free hand coming to rub at her stomach. "You were right, the breadsticks at that place are amazing. I ate so many I actually hate myself a little bit but they were _so_good."

"Didn't realise you'd have company," another voice pipes up, low and soft and unreadable. Puck leans against the wall; hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, leather jacket well broken in and his Mohawk spiked.

Mike can feel worry rising up in him at the words – _seriously,_can't any of her friends like him on spec? – but Tina just rolls her eyes and slips her hand in his. "Quinn, Puck, this is Mike. Mike, these are my friends Quinn and Puck."

Mike doesn't even notice the way Quinn smothers her smile in Beth's curls as Tina introduces them, or the way she wiggles her eyebrows at her friend. "Nice to meet you Mike," she greets politely, shifting Beth to her other hip as she begins to snuffle again. "I've heard a lot about you."

"I haven't," Puck shoots from the corner.

"Puck!" Tina cries, aghast, because she can see Mike's face twist, and she can't stop herself leaning over and punching Puck in the arm. Puck laughs and pushes her back, softly.

"Noah, stop being difficult," Quinn tells him in a no-nonsense manner and Puck and Tina's tussling immediately ceases. "And hold your daughter."

There's a marked transformation as Puck gets hold of Beth. The scowl drops and a smile blossoms over his lips and he holds her against his chest like he hasn't seen her in days instead of hours. "My little Puckasaurus!" he greets softly, kissing the top of her head even as she snuggles into his crisp white shirt. Her hand grasps at the material and Puck winces shifting her weight slightly. "Whoa, watch the nipple-ring baby girl."

Quinn and Tina are watching with matching amused smiles and Mike's just standing, his fingers laced with Tina's; he totally misses the tacit conversation that goes on between the two women beneath his line of sight. Quinn nods her head towards Mike and quirks her eyebrows in appreciation, and Tina rolls her eyes but grins in acknowledgement. Puck, rocking Beth, doesn't miss the interaction and scowls.

"I'm right here you know?"

Mike, thinking the comment is directed at him, feels completely lost. "What?"

The girls laugh, but Puck just waves off the taller man and explains. "Dude, you're being objectified. By two women who like to call themselves feminists." He waggles a judging finger in Quinn and Tina's direction. "You should be ashamed."

Quinn laughs at that, her pink hair swishing around her shoulders. "You think being a feminist means I can't find a man physically attractive? Why do you think I hooked up with you the first time?" she teases. "The wit and banter?"

Grasping a hand to his heart, Puck pouts. "You wound me babe."

All four of them laugh then, and Mike feels marginally better because at least Puck's smiling and actually talking to him. And Quinn is most *definitely* smiling, even if it makes him feel slightly uncomfortable because he knows she's Tina's friend – her _good _friend – and suddenly he's very aware that he's in his pyjamas and she probably knows far more about him than he's entirely comfortable with.

"You need her b-bag?" Tina asks after a second, making to step away and get it when Quinn nods her head, but Mike just squeezes her hand.

"I'll get it," he offers, because really it's the first time he's met them and as nice as they seem he'd rather not be left alone with Quinn and Puck right away. "It's in the bedroom?"

"B-by my easel," Tina tells him with a knowing smile. "And her coat's on the desk."

He nods, and takes off down the hall, stretching his arms above his head so his t-shirt rides up and shows a flash of his beautifully muscled back, and then he disappears into the bedroom.

The reaction is immediate. "Tina," Quinn breathes, grabbing the other woman by the upper arms. "_Tina!__" _

Tina can't help but laugh. "Quinn?"

Quinn's voice is soft, but excited, and her green eyes are wide. "You said he was cute but _oh __my __God!__" _ She ignores Puck's grumbling behind her and fans herself with her hand. "I just want to touch his abs. Is that weird? He looks like he's made out of marble."

"I'm not deaf you know." Puck's frowning, stroking Beth's hair back from her face.

Rolling her eyes, Quinn stands on tiptoes and places a kiss against Puck's scruffy cheek. She rubs the faint lipstick mark off with her thumb. "Puck, don't feel emasculated. I'm just excited for Tina and I'm sorry, but even you can't deny that man has the body of a Greek god."

Rolling his eyes, Puck throws his free hand in the air. "Fine," he relents. "He's an Adonis. But a little love for the regular man doesn't hurt," he pouts.

The kiss that follows between the two of them is long and hot, with Quinn cupping Puck's face in both her hands. "Better?" she asks as she pulls away.

"Better," he nods.

"Uh…I have her bag?"

None of the three adults hear Mike's return, but then he's standing with a blue downy jacket in one hand and black diaper bag in the other. Licking her lips, Quinn pats her husband's chest. "Thanks Mike," she says, holding her hand out for her daughter's items. "Now let me take my daughter and my husband and get out of your hair. I'm sure you have better things to be doing than entertaining us." The words are said with a knowing smirk that makes Tina laugh and Mike's cheeks pink.

"I'll c-call you tomorrow?" Tina agrees as Puck manoeuvres his daughter into her coat, her gold head lolling against his shoulder.

Pressing a kiss against her cheek, Quinn nods. "I want to know how it goes with the girls." Pulling back, Quinn tugs her coat around her body. "It's good to finally meet you Mike."

"Likewise," he answers automatically, ever polite.

Puck holds Beth tightly and tips a nod of his head towards the other man. "Dude," he acknowledges simply as he ducks out of the door.

With the three of them gone and the door locked behind them, Tina and Mike both take a deep breath and look at each other.

"Bed time?" she suggests with a lick of her lips.

Grinning, he grabs her around the waist, pulling her flush against him. "You read my mind."


	7. Chapter 7

Happy holidays! Hope you enjoy this little slice of AU Tike as my gift to you all!

Love, snuggles and thanks as always to my ML. x

xXx

Keisha props her chin on her palm and looks at Tina with a sharply quirked eyebrow. Her dark cheek is streaked with blue paint and a bright silver 'K' pendant swings against her skinny chest, clinking against the metal zipper of her yellow hooded sweatshirt. "She called me a whore, what was I 'sposed to do?"

Pulling her hair up into a scrunch on top of her head, Tina secures it with a pencil and sighs. Her cameo pendant bobs at her neck. "I d-don't know Keish - anything except p-punch her?" Picking up a cloth, Tina wipes the paint smears off the table in front of her; only ten minutes before it had been crowded with young women, the rest of whom are currently downstairs grabbing sodas and coffees on their break. Their paintings – self-portraits in vivid, pop-art colours - stand waiting on tabletop easels, works in progress.

Pushing her braids back from her face, Keisha runs her tongue along her metal-braced teeth and shrugs her hunched shoulders. "I'm not a whore, Tee."

Sliding into the seat next to the young girl, Tina drops a hand to her shoulder. "I know that."

"Yeah I had sex with Ryan and Brett and that kid at the concert but I'm not a whore. *I* choose when I want to do it - I choose, no one else. That's what you said, right? That as long as I want to do it, and the guy wants to, and we're safe and all then I don't gotta justify it to anyone else?"

"Since you t-turned seventeen? Sure. But Keisha… I want you to m-make sure it's what you want to d-do. That you're n-not just doing it because you can, b-but because you want to."

There's a pause, and Keisha shrugs her shoulders again. "I like it. Makes me feel good."

Tina laughs at that, good naturedly, and squeezes the young girl's shoulder again. "Yeah, it's supposed to," she acknowledges, standing up and stretching her arms above her head with a groan as her shoulder pops.

Keisha stretches her legs in front of her, glittery pink sneakers bright in the cluttered room and black and white leg warmers scrunched around her ankles. "Why do adults never admit that?" she asks, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a Tootsie Pop. Peeling off the paper, she pops the sucker between her lips. "They always make it sound like you can't have sex without catching some terrible disease or being raped or endin' up dying from having some like, backstreet abortion. As if I wouldn't just go to a clinic if I needed an abortion."

Wagging her finger, Tina reminds her, "Condoms first, Keish. Plan B. Abortion as the last line of d-defence, okay?"

The young girl nods her head, lips already stained purple. "I'm just saying."

"I know. And you're right. T-too many adults act like sex is something b-bad, or gross or immoral. But it's not. And Keisha, you're old enough to m-make your own decisions, but that means you have to act like it. Yeah, you get to b-be a grown up and decide who you want to have sex with, but that also means you have to be responsible and not p-punch other people in the face when they say things you d-don't want to hear."

Keisha laughs then, and nods, looking sufficiently cowed. "Kind of a douche move, huh?"

Tina tosses a cloth in her direction. "You think?"

Footsteps clatter in the hallway then and there's a burst of loud girlish laughter as the other young women explode into the room. "Oooh! Keish! Can't believe you missed it!" A girl with bright orange hair cropped close against her head drops into the available chair next to Keisha and pops the tab on her Diet Coke. Sondra has a fading pink scar across her cheekbone – breaking through her freckles – but the smile on her lips is bright. "There is a super fine piece of ass downstairs and guess who he's looking for?"

Keisha quirks an eyebrow, lips still firmly around her grape lollipop. "Who?"

The redhead flicks her paint-covered finger across the room. "Our very own T-C-C."

The group breaks into whoops and woos and teasing catcalls and Tina rolls her eyes at them. "Really girls?"

On her chair, Keisha pulls herself to kneeling and bounces on her bony knees. "What's he like, what's he like?" she prompts with a giggle, flicking her braids behind her shoulder. "Are we talking like mainstream Zefron fine or like, I don't know, like full on Aphasia's-brother-Kyle fine?"

"Hey!" The Aphasia in question – with her hair pulled in two puffs on the top of her head like Minnie Mouse – wrinkles her nose and looks aghast. "Gross."

"Sorry," Keisha says, but she doesn't look sorry at all. Instead she shares a look with Sondra and makes an inappropriate hip swivel. "So which is it?"

Sondra is about to answer when her jaw drops open and her eyes widen and she just indicates wordlessly with a flick of her finger towards the open doorway.

"Uh, hey." Mike's voice is tentative – because there's a room full of teenage girls staring at him like he's made of chocolate and puppies and cold hard cash – and he fingers the lanyard that had been placed round his neck at the reception desk. "They said I could come up?"

Tina grins from her place across the other side of the table. "Hi," she greets, amused by the flicker of terror in his eyes. "What are you d-doing here?"

Mike can't help but stare at her then, in her ruffled black skirt and star-patterned tights, and red sneakered feet rocking gently on the floor. Her shoulders are bare and pale and his eyes can't help but be drawn to the dark inked outline of the musical heart that peeks out from atop her low-backed tank. Paint is streaked up her forearms and there's one particular smudge on her collarbone that his thumb itches to wipe off.

He realises that he hasn't answered and the girls sat around him are giggling into their palms and each other's shoulders. Even Tina looks amused. "I uh, we're meeting at 3?"

Tina looks at the Victoriana watch dangling against her cleavage. "It's only 2."

"What?"

From the other end of the table, Keisha, Sondra and Aphasia burst into laughter. "Your man can't tell time Tee," Keisha teases, making Mike blush scarlet.

"Yeah, C-C, I thought you only dated smart guys."

"I don't care if he's dumb as fuck with a body like that."

"Mel!"

"Sorry…"

Mike goldfishes a few times, looking at his watch and then cursing. "I'm so sorry Tina," he says softly as she approaches him, wrapping her fingers around his wrist. "I really thought it said three o'clock."

He doesn't say anything else as she tugs him into the room and steers him towards the head of the table. The girls continue their snickering, but hide it well enough behind wrists and bitten lips as Tina stares them all down. "Girls, this is m-my friend Mike. He's a d-doctor, and he can usually t-tell the time, and yes, he has a great b-body and n-no, Mel, you c-can't touch it."

The tall blonde shrugs, looking not at all apologetic, and bites on the nail of her little finger, shooting Mike a wink that makes him squirm and edge a fraction closer to Tina's side.

He looks over at some of the paintings waiting around the edge of the table. "Wow," he says, honestly impressed as he steps slightly closer and leans into the pictures. Tina is herding the girls to their paintbrushes and easels and swatting Keisha in the arm when she makes a lewd gesture with her fist and her tongue in cheek and can only watch Mike over her shoulder. He looks around the room at the gathered girls and then at the paintings before him. "These are really good."

Smiling, Tina nods her head towards the small brunette with long loose hair currently washing the brushes out in the sink. "That's Nancy's," she tells Mike. "She's b-been with us about six months, isn't that r-right Nance?"

The small girl blushes hard and she drops the brushes into the sink with a clatter, her chin tucked into her chest and her hair falling to cover her face before managing a small nod. Mel the flirtatious blonde swoops in alongside her, helping her pick up the brushes, and slides an arm around the smaller girl's shoulders, picking up the one-sided conversation effortlessly.

Passing the easels back along the table, Tina leans into Mike's side. "She d-doesn't talk."

The buzz and shrieking and chatter of the girls pretty much drowns them out, and Mike edges towards the wall of the small room, trying to keep out of the darting bodies and waving paintbrushes. "At all?" he asks, his voice soft, and he keeps his eyes on the little girl as she sits in the corner, watching the other girls' conversations with wide dark eyes. Her lips occasionally quirk in amusement, but she doesn't join in, instead just working on her canvass with focus.

Tina shakes her head. "N-not for two years. B-but she's joining in now, so that's a step. For the first four m-months all she did was s-sit in the corner and cry."

Sometimes, Mike forgets exactly what kind of kids it is that Tina works with, but in moments like this he can't help but feel it like a punch in the chest and he's amazed by her all over again. She nods her head towards an empty chair, and he drops into it without another word; he realises that he might be a little less intimidating when he's sitting, and folds his arms in front of him as the young women look at photos and use mirrors and splash bright, acid colours onto the canvass. Tina wanders around behind them, occasionally giving advice or pointing at something on their painting or on their face. She brushes a drop of green paint off of Sondra's nose with a laugh, and then bumps shoulders with Keisha as she passes, saying something about her ears that makes the girl break into peels of laughter.

Mike looks around him - at the room they're in - and can't help but get a vibe from it. The paint is chipped and flaking and tired, but the walls are covered in posters and paintings and sketches and photos of the girls – and the young women who had come before them – hugging each other and beaming with pride. One girl wears a crimson graduation gown, a scroll clutched in her fist and a beaming smile on her face. Letters are pinned up, and from the snatches Mike can read from his seat they're stories of appreciation and good memories. The smocks the girls currently wear are pretty heavily patched but clean, and a handmade mobile flutters in the half-open window casting rainbows of light through the tissue paper hearts onto the table.

"You w-want to give it a try?" Tina's voice whispers in his ear as she passes, her hand ghosting his shoulder.

"What?"

Grabbing a piece of paper from the side and a paintbrush, Tina slides them towards Mike. "Go on, g-give it a try," she prompts. "Show us what you've g-got."

He laughs then, picking up the paintbrush. "Science geek, remember? I haven't got much."

It's Keisha that leans over from her place knelt up on her chair, and pats his muscled forearm with an honest smile. "S'okay Dr Mike, we don't judge in here. All of us were shit when we started. Lucky for you our Tee's a pretty good teacher."

"Thanks Keish," Tina grins, leaning down and kissing Mike on the top of the head. "Just have f-fun."

Tina watches as she wanders around the room, chatting with the girls and laughing at their conversations. Most of them are bright smiles and raucous laughter, but part of her job is listening for the telltale phrases, the slipped truths, the moments of fear or honesty. She takes time with Nancy, who blushes furiously but nods her head and allows a flicker of a smile to cross her lips when Tina praises her picture; she listens to Sondra bemoan about her boyfriend and Mel talk about her new foster family and when she turns back around she almost bursts into laughter because Keisha and Aphasia are in a serious conversation with Mike about their Biology homework. It makes her heart swell momentarily because he listens to them _so_intently and nods his head as they curse and rail, and then grabs a pencil from the side to sketch out a small diagram of what looks like the respiratory system on a piece of sugar paper. Leaning in, he continues talking to them, pointing at different parts of the picture, and even though Aphasia curses and rests her forehead in her palms, Keisha watches him with curious eyes and a slow nod of her head.

"Hey, T-C-C!" Chantel pushes her side-sweeping bangs from her forehead with the back of her wrist as she reaches across the table for the magenta paint. "So is The Last Airbender here your friend or your _boy_friend?" she asks with a tease.

The other girls answer with catcalls, and Mike blushes but can't help but smile when Tina catches his eye. "What do you think?" she asks, cocking her hips against the table and folding her arms.

Chantel leans against Sondra's shoulder and turns her body to study Mike with an appraising look. She pouts her crimson lips and arches a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "I think if he's your friend you at least better be gettin' some benefits out of this one," she says honestly, and even though Sondra elbows her in the side – hard – Chantel can't help but laugh. "What? She asked!"

"I d-did," Tina acknowledges, and looks at Mike with a flirty wink.

"So?"

Tina's purposefully blasé, and Mike just keeps his head down so as not to laugh, his paintbrush sweeping across his paper as she answers, "So what?"

There's a collective groan and the girls all roll their eyes. "Tina, come _on,_we tell you about our boyfriends."

"You d-do."

"_So?__" _ The words burst from Aphasia and Chantel's lips at the same time, and the two girls both fold their arms across their chests. Aphasia is the quickest to speak, her head cocked to her shoulder, "So are you getting your Asian Fusion on with him or not?"

Tina breaks into peels of laughter. "You d-do realise he's sitting r-right there, girls?"

Both girls just shrug their shoulders, and realising they are not going to get an answer turn back to their paintings with an eye roll and a collective huff of breath.

Mike – his forehead resting on his folded arms as he tries to block out the conversation – risks lifting his head up when he feels a small hand sliding onto his arm. Peeking out, he sees Keisha's smiling, sympathetic face. "Don't worry 'bout them," she whispers, conspiratorially. "Aphasia's just out of Juvie and Chantel's a slut. Can't help herself."

Coming up behind her, Tina rests her hand on Keisha's shoulder and leans in close to her ear. "I thought we were g-going to stop c-calling our friends sluts and whores?" she reminds her in a whisper, and Keisha ducks her head, guilty.

"Oh yeah. I forgot?"

Tina just squeezes her shoulder in equal parts warning and understanding.

Three o'clock rolls around faster than any of them realise, and the girls are cleaning brushes and paint pots and wiping smears of colour off of each other. Mel rubs at Nancy's cheek until the small girl smiles, and Keisha and Aphasia wipe down the tables as the other girls pick up their coats and bags from the pegs at the side of the room. When Sondra yells that the bus is downstairs, each one passes by Tina – some giving high fives, some hugs, some simply shy smiles – and promise to see her later in the week.

Winks, catcalls, and some good-natured goodbyes are thrown Mike's way too and he smiles at each one in return.

Tina wanders around for a few minutes, folding up smocks and tossing them in the hamper in the corner of the room, and tucking in chairs, until Mike finally lays down his paintbrush. "You want to see?" he asks, sliding his seat back.

Grinning, Tina nods her head, coming up to his end of the table and settling into his lap. When she looks down at his painting, she can't help but break into laughter.

A strip of green grass runs across the bottom of the page, mirrored by a strip of blue across the top. In the left corner, a round yellow sun sits and shines down on the two smiling stick figures standing in the middle of the picture. "That's me," he says, pointing to the taller stick figure. "And that's you," he indicates the smaller one. Pressing a kiss against her bare shoulder, he coughs a laugh. "I haven't done much painting since Elementary School."

Turning her head, she kisses him soundly on the lips. "The g-girls liked you."

"Yeah?" he slides his arms around her waist, holding her securely. "You think?"

Running her fingers through his hair, Tina nods her head. "Mmm. I haven't seen Chantel that talkative around a m-man in a long time. And Keisha was g-giving you some serious heart-eye."

He laughs brightly at that. "She's sweet."

Lifting off his lap, Tina takes his picture and pins it in the middle of the notice board with a big smile. "She's b-been here the longest of the girls. Violent home. Five d-different foster families in t-two years. She's talented though."

Lacing their fingers together, Mike nods his head and allows her to lead him out of the small art room and down the corridor. "Smart too. She understood that homework when she was talking about it – I think she just finds writing it down difficult."

Mike has to return his lanyard at the front desk and they both have to sign out – and the man who works in Reception gives Tina a fond smile and a wink – and then they exit out the door into the chilly New York November air.

"Groceries?" Tina suggests as Mike slides his arm across her shoulders and she snuggles into his side for warmth. "M-maybe a pizza for d-dinner?"

Kissing the top of her head, he nods. "Sounds good to me."

xXx

The grocery store is pleasantly deserted; only a gentle throng of other people trickling through and picking up their weekend groceries. Mike pushes the cart and Tina clutches her list in hand – a little scrap piece of paper torn of the edge of a magazine and scribbled on in what looks like green pencil crayon – and her other hand points out the things on the shelves as they pass.

"We need t-toothpaste," she tells him, stopping him walking with a tug on his back pocket and flicking her fingers towards the shelf as they pass.

Pausing the cart, he picks up two boxes. "Blue or green? Fresh or mild?"

She bites her lip, cocking her head to the side as she considers it, "Blue."

"Fresh," he announces, replacing one on the shelf and dropping the other into the cart with a grin before leaning over and stealing a quick kiss from her scarlet-painted lips. "Fresh and minty."

He's unnaturally giddy for someone buying staples, but Tina lets it slide. She knows he doesn't get to do these normal, every-day things very often in his line of work and Mike's always found joy in little things. It's one of the things she likes about him. Continuing down the aisle, Tina grabs a bottle of her shampoo and then the body wash that she knows Mike likes (and she likes to smell on him). Turning the corner, they reach the cereal, and Tina points up towards the shelf as she strikes a couple things off her list. "Which one do you w-want?" she asks, her head kept down, and Mike looks confused for a second.

"This is for your house isn't it? I don't mind which one you pick."

Rolling her eyes fondly, Tina hip-checks him. "Mike, when was the last time you had breakfast at your house?" she asks. "In fact, when was the last time you were at your house for any longer than it t-takes you to pick up some clothes and your m-mail?"

Scuffing the toe of his sneaker against the linoleum floor, Mike raises his shoulders in a shrug. "I uh…" he begins, breaking off with a cough, and it's then that Tina looks up from her list.

"God Mike, I'm not complaining!" she laughs, squeezing his elbow in reassurance. "I just w-want you to stop eating all my Raison Bran."

He smiles then, ducking his head and shrugging his shoulders again, almost shyly. "Raison Bran is fine with me."

Rolling her eyes, Tina pushes him towards the shelves, her hands on his back. "Of course Raison Bran is fine_,_but what do you _want_?"

The two of them stand in front of the shelves, staring down the selection of boxes. The sheer plethora of colours and flavours seems daunting, and Mike's eyes widen as he looks at them. "You don't mind what I pick?" he checks, because even though he's nearly thirty and has lived away from his parents for years, he's never truly felt encouraged to have this much freedom.

But Tina just laughs and waves her hand in the direction of the boxes. "Go crazy."

Mike wanders up and down the aisle for a moment, taking a couple of boxes down and reading the back as Tina picks up her usual raison bran and a packet of granola, as well as some oatmeal for when Beth stays over. Finally Mike approaches Tina and the cart, a box held close to his chest. He holds it out in presentation. "This is okay?"

Tina quirks an eyebrow. "Captain Crunch? Sure. You'll b-be Blaine's best friend. He loves that stuff."

Putting his cereal next to Tina's, Mike tangles their fingers together and pushes the cart with his free hand. They wander round a few more aisles, Tina announcing things they need – pasta and rice, lentils and tomato soup – and Mike laughs when she stands on tiptoes, trying to reach the pita bread that she prefers. He swoops in behind her, picking it up and handing it to her without words, except to kiss the crown of her head. "Which food was it that Beth likes?"

She waves her hand towards the other side of the aisle where the jars of baby food are stacked. "Green j-jar, red label?" she indicates, her voice half guessing because she honestly can't quite remember the name of the brand, but she knows she'll recognise it when she sees it. "And n-not the peaches!"

He takes each jar down, and Tina can't help but find it completely adorable the way his nose wrinkles up as he reads the front of them. "Carrots and peas?" he suggests with a tone that sounds less than enthusiastic. "Strained plums?"

"She likes them," Tina says with a laugh as she pulls the cart over to him. "The p-pear and apple is her favourite."

Diligently, he selects a couple different jars – including the pear and apple – and puts them carefully into the cart so they don't clink together, resting them safely against the shifting pack of orange lentils. "What's next?"

Ticking things off the list, Tina nods her head, resolute. "Juice."

They wander down the aisles to the refrigerated section, and stand in front of the large glass-fronted cabinets. Opening it, Tina grabs a large carton of cranberry juice and puts it in the cart. "Now you need to choose something d-different," she tells him as she shifts things around in the bottom, careful that the heavy items don't crush the smaller, lighter foodstuffs. "Because if you keep drinking all my cranberry then we c-can't keep having so much sex."

Mike looks aghast for a brief second, and then serious. "Can't have that," he murmurs – and then shooting her a wink – grabs his own carton of apple. "Better?"

She grins up at him, striking another item off their list. "M-much."

Leaning down, he presses a kiss against her lips. "What do we still need to get?"

"Uh…" She looks down at the scrap of paper, squinting at her own handwriting. "Coffee, milk, apples and… strawberries."

"Strawberries?"

She shrugs her shoulders, sliding the piece of paper into her pocket. "I feel like strawberries."

They wander past coffee and Tina curses because it looks like they don't have Kurt's favourite but then crows when she finds a single jar lurking behind something much less extravagant. Mike blanches slightly at the price but knows not to complain because he's the one who's been drinking most of it recently – and using their shower, watching their tv, eating their food, using their broadband. A brief moment of guilt overtakes him. "Tina… you think maybe I should give you some money?"

She's climbing down from the shelves and shoots him a confused look over her inked shoulder. "For what?"

He shrugs, sliding his hands into his pockets. "Bills and stuff. I'm always at your place." He knows money is often one of those things that people avoid talking about – and he knows there's a definite disparity between what he earns and what she does – but Tina just flips her hair over her shoulder and lets it tumble down her back.

"If you w-want," she tells him, completely calmly, as they wander towards produce. "And if you're n-not going to be overstretched."

Taking his hand from his pocket, he laces their fingers together. "I'd like to give you something."

Laughing gently, she tips her head up to him. "You give me a lot."

"Well," he smiles, squeezing her hand. "That's because I love you."

She's just reached down to pick up an apple as he says it, and the green sphere almost topples out of her hand. She has to lunge slightly to catch it again; when she straightens up her cheeks are tinged pink and even though she's biting her lip, the corners of her mouth are quirked in a smile. "I love you too," she tells him, simply.

Reaching out, he takes the apple from her hand, and picking up another two from the display begins to juggle them, making her throw her head back in loud laughter. She holds out a paper bag and quirks her eyebrow. "Ready?"

Licking his lips, he juggles another round and then stops, tossing the apples – one, two, three – into the bag. They land with precision.

Closing the bag with a grin, Tina rests it in the cart. "Ready to g-go home?"

Reaching up, Mike tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Absolutely."

xXx

Tina's eyelashes flutter closed as Mike's finger traces down her neck and she sighs, leaning into his touch. He's not doing anything purposeful, just reading a medical journal while Tina sketches curled up on the sofa, but his touch is enough to make shivers across her skin. Her pencil stills on the paper as his fingers toy with the stray curls at the nape of her neck.

It's completely absentminded, which kills her slightly; he's totally engrossed in what he's reading and his fingers are moving without thought. They tuck her hair behind her ear, lingering on the skin there, his thumb sweeping in slow, rhythmic arcs.

The lights are low in the apartment – the room lit by the single up-lighter lamp – and the radio plays softly in the background. Dinner had been quiet and peaceful, and filled with easy conversation, and after they'd done the dishes – side-by-side at the sink – they'd picked up their relative books and relaxed onto the sofa together.

Which is how Tina now finds herself, tingling and warm, with her boyfriend's fingers making her arch her neck and her lungs exhale heavily. "_Mike.__"_

He doesn't even tear his eyes from his journal, and his thumb sweeps her neck again. "Mmm?"

Taking a breath, she places her sketchbook aside and reaches up to cover his hand on her skin. "Mike," she says again, more pointedly, and tilts her head to face him. "Put the journal down."

Looking at her for a long moment, he slowly closes the journal, leaning forward to put the magazine on the coffee table – having to pull his hands from her skin as he does – and then leans back against the sofa, long legs stretched in front of him. His Adam's apple bobs.

There's a long moment of stillness, and then they both seem to move at once. Her hands grip his shirtfront and his cup her cheeks and their lips press together; she drinks in the warmth of his skin - of his touch - and somehow she's totally aware that in that moment, it's different then it has been before. Just the way he murmurs her name against her lips is enough to make tears prick at the corner of her eyes, and then one is slipping down her nose and Mike's pulling back from her lips and swiping it away with the pad of his thumb.

"Hey," he mumbles, kissing one eye, and then the other, and then the tip of her nose. "Why the tears?"

Tina allows herself a little laugh then – wiping at her eyes with the back of her wrist – and a small shrug. "I'm just h-happy we're together," she tells him, resting her forehead against his. "I'm happy we m-met."

Wrapping his arms around her waist, Mike tugs Tina closer towards him. "I am too," he agrees, letting his hands creep under her tank top and splay on the skin of her back. "You have no idea how happy you make me Tee."

The words are coupled by a kiss to the side of her neck – the same place his fingers were earlier wandering – and it sends more of the same tingles humming through her skin. She sighs deeply; all previous tears are forgotten as his teeth nip gently at her throat. His hands slide under the waistband of her pyjamas, skating from the small of her back to the tops of her thighs, brushing her soft skin and dragging her pants down with his touch. Cool air hits her skin and she grumbles into his mouth, making him laugh.

Shifting her off of his lap, he stands up and tugs the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head. It makes her hair scatter over her shoulders, and he kneels down in front of her as he eases her pants down, helping her step out of them with a steadying hand on his shoulder. He places an open-mouthed kiss against the hollow of her hip, looking up at her when she winds her fingers in his hair and shooting her a small smile. Then standing up, he tugs his own t-shirt off, tossing it aside, and pushes his pants down over his hips.

"Shit!" he exclaims at the chilled air, grabbing Tina towards him and pressing their bodies together in a way that makes her laugh brightly. His arms wrap around her and their skin is pressed together from chest to hip. Hooking his hands under her armpits, he lifts her up so her legs wrap around his waist, and her arms tangle together behind his neck.

"Warmer?" she asks, pressing her lips against his.

Reaching between their bodies, he finds her hot and wet and ready. "Much."

The sofa is soft against Tina's knees and Mike's back, and her spine arches into his touch. Her hips rise and fall and Mike cups her breasts, rolling one nipple between his thumb and forefinger as his lips tease the other. Tina clenches her muscles around him and Mike falters for a moment, exhaling hard against her chest. "God," he breathes, fingers of his free hand clutching at her thighs. "God, God, Tina." He leans against the back of the couch, dropping his head backwards, his eyes screwed shut as his muscles start burning. "Tell me you're close?"

Her breath catches, and she takes his hand, guiding it between their bodies. "Touch me," she pleads, her hand pressed hard against his pecs - her nails scratching lightly.

It only takes a gentle stroke – a couple anti-clockwise swirls – before she curses and her whole body trembles, and Mike can't help but grab her hips hard as he slams up into her. He bites her bottom lip, pulling it into his mouth, and then kisses her hard as he comes.

She curls against him as they both regroup, and he eases their bodies down as he stretches out on the sofa. Tugging the blanket off the back of the couch, Mike covers their slowly cooling bodies, and presses a long kiss to Tina's lips.

"I love you Tina," he murmurs into her mouth, and even though it's the second time he's said it, it makes her heart flutter in her chest and something warm settle in her stomach.

Snuggling against his chest, she lets her eyes close. "I love you too."


	8. Chapter 8

Thank you to all of you people who have reviewed, liked or prompted me to get off my butt and continue writing this fic! My love to each and every one of you!

Special love always to my ML. You forever rock my socks, make me smile and are the bunneh to my kitteh.

"So there's this benefit."

Mike's voice is crackly over the phone, and Tina can tell he's in the doctor's lounge because she can hear Matt's voice in the background and the popping, hissing noise of their coffee machine.

She holds her cell closer to her ear, staring down at the design in front of her. The client she's currently working for in her alternative 'pay the bills' job as a freelance branding artist is picky to say the least; they've been on her back for the last three days changing their minds about what they want and when, and she keeps staring down at the lettering, trying to decide if it looks too bulky. She erases a pencil line with a frustrated puff of air from her lips. "What?"

She can hear him take a sip of his coffee. "The hospital's having a benefit. In a couple weeks. And you don't have to come or anything, because it's probably going to be really boring, but it's for some important people who've donated a bunch of money to the hospital. But Doctor Bieste says anyone who's not working has to go and guess who has that night off?"

Tina licks her lips, redrawing one of the lines on the letter 'a', and then cursing when it doesn't look right. "You r-really want me to decide now?" she asks, pushing her hair back from her face and fisting it at the back of her head. "Seriously Mike, I c-can't even think about tomorrow right n-now, let alone t-two weeks away."

There's a long pause of silence, and when Mike speaks his voice is hesitant. "Are you okay?"

Tina scrubs at her cheeks. They're red and hot; she knows her roseacea is acting up and she can feel her stomach clench. "I have this c-commission due and it's n-not going well." She stares down at the lettering, irritation forming as she looks at the sketched lines and smudged marks. "They said they w-wanted it Friday and now they want it t-tomorrow and Dave Karofsky – m-my liaison at the agency – is b-being such a d-dick."

Her pencil is tapping against the side of the desk in frustration, and she knows Mike can hear it in her voice because when he speaks again he sounds very calm, and pacifying, and she feels instantly terrible that she's not better at hiding her feelings. "It's okay. You don't need to decide now. And you don't have to come if you don't want to. It's not a big deal. We'll talk about it later, okay?"

She nods her head even though she knows he can't see her, and tugs her hair gently. "Okay. Thank you."

"I'll talk to you later?"

"Yeah… Mike?"

"Yeah?"

"The Centre c-called me. Mel's m-missing from her new foster home and n-no one knows where she is. And I'm j-just sitting here, t-trying to m-make a better letter 'a'. I just - " Her voice breaks, and she presses the heel of her hand hard against her eyes. It makes her see gold spots and the back of her throat burns.

"Hey, hey." She knows Mike must be able to hear the encroaching tears, because his voice is soft and understanding. "Is anyone looking for her?"

Sniffling, Tina bites her lip. "The usual p-people: DCFS, the police. I m-mean, she's d-disappeared before b-but I thought she was doing b-better this time." A tear slides down her cheek and she wipes it away. "I'm j-just worried."

There's a long pause and then, "I'll be home in a couple hours."

Another tear slips off her nose and hits the paper right above her letters. "I'll b-be here."

xXx

He squeezes the sponge, making rivulets of warm water trickle over Tina's shoulders and down her back, scrubbing gently across her tense muscles. She breathes in deeply as his fingers rub and knead at her skin, dropping her head forward to give him better access.

The tub really isn't big enough for the two of them – not with Mike's long legs – but neither one complains as the water sloshes against the high sides, sending a vague scent of orange blossom swirling around them. Mike takes Tina's hand in his, running the sponge down her arm and over each of her fingers in turn.

"Scaphoid," he murmurs in her ear, tracing his fingers down her forearm. "Lunate, triquetral, pisiform." He places a kiss behind her ear. "Trapezium, trapezoid."

"What are you doing?" she asks, but she can't quite stop the small smile from quirking at her lips. He has bubbles streaked through his hair and his chest is warm and broad against her back.

He seems to ignore her at first, turning her arm in his grip and finishing his recitation, "Capitate, hamate." Bringing his other arm around her body, so her hands are palm to palm with his, he laces their fingers together. "Thinking," he admits, taking a long breath in the steamy room. "It helps me think."

She leans her head against his shoulder as he draws random patterns against her slick skin. "What are you thinking about?" He writes letters into her palm, too quick for her to tell what they say, and when she tips her head up, she can tell that his brow is furrowed. "Mike?"

"The girl… the one from your class. The one that went missing?"

"Mel?"

"Yeah."

Pulling his arms tighter around her, Tina uses her toes to turn the hot tap; replenishing the supply and making her feet tingle in the warmth. "What about her?"

Mike takes a deep breath, his hand resting on her stomach, his thumb sweeping an arc under her breasts. "I just… I'm not close with my parents. We talk a few times a year. I don't go home for holidays. But I can't… I can't understand… how do you just walk out on your kid? Not care where they are, or if they're okay or hurt or -" He breaks off, and Tina can feel him shrug behind her. "I just could never do that."

Reaching up, Tina holds Mike's hand against her body. "That's b-because you're a g-good person Mike," she assures him, squeezing his fingers. "Not that it's that simple… I mean, Mel's m-mom was only fifteen when she had her. Now she's your age with a t-teenage daughter. It c-can't be easy." Water trickles down her body, sliding between her breasts and joining the pool of water ebbing between them. "She's m-made bad choices and I feel b-bad for her. Now Mel c-can't live with her anymore, and l-losing your kid can't b-be easy, no matter what."

Mike's free hand rubs up and down Tina's bare thigh, and when he speaks his voice is soft. "They found her?"

Stretching her legs out, Tina lets out a yawn, hiding it behind the back of her wrist. Her toes curl up and the muscles in the back of her legs ache deliciously. "She w-went home to her foster family after three d-days. Skinny and cold, b-but okay."

"God."

Closing her eyes, Tina listens to the sound of the lapping water, and Mike's steady breathing. "Not all families have to b-be like that," she reminds him. "We're j-just both in jobs where we often see p-people going through bad times." Her hands trail from his knees and up his thighs, rubbing gently.

Leaning forward, he presses a kiss against her bare shoulder. "Yeah."

Lifting his hand, she presses a kiss to the middle of his palm. "Doesn't m-mean there aren't good times too."

His lips curve into a smile, and he rests his forehead against her damp skin. "Yeah."

xXx

"I'm j-just not sure if I'm going."

Tina shrugs her shoulders, hands wrapped around her coffee cup as she walks down the street, avoiding the eyes of the man walking next to her. Kurt's brows knot into a frown and he tugs his striped scarf tighter around his neck against the biting wind.

"Let me get this straight," he starts, sipping his non-fat mocha for warmth, gloved fingers wiggling against the cardboard cup. "Your boyfriend has invited you out for an evening of formal wear and champagne – two things you really enjoy – and you're thinking about not going?" He nudges her with an elbow and is incredulous when she simply shrugs her shoulders again. "Why?"

Biting her lip between her teeth, Tina admits, "I'm not g-good at talking to p-people I don't know." She points her finger, waving it in the direction of her mouth. "It's going to b-be a room full of d-doctors and I'm going to g-get nervous and embarrass him."

Stopping her with a firm grasp on her arm, Kurt turns and puts his hands on her shoulders. "You are not an embarrassment," he tells her firmly. "Not to Mike, not to yourself, not to _anyone, _you understand?" His brow furrows, so different from his usual smooth skin. "Has he ever acted like your stutter bothers him?"

At this Tina shakes her head, firmly. "Never."

"Then why are you worried?"

A small puff of laughter breaks from her lips, and she pushes her hair behind her ear. "I d-don't know. A room full of d-doctors is kind of intimidating."

They've reached the entrance to Kurt's office, and instead of saying goodbye he grabs her gloved hand and tugs her inside. "Come on," he insists, ignoring her protests. "We're going to find you something fabulous to wear."

"Kurt…"

"Nope, no arguments. The right dress will give you all the confidence you need and knock lover boy's socks off in the process. Mercedes!"

He's dragging her into the office as he shouts and a few people look around, but seeing that it's Kurt shouting they all turn back to their work. Tina ducks her head, trying to disappear into her coat, but allows herself to be dragged through the main office and down the corridor into the large cavernous room that's just bursting with colour and material and accessories. Her eyes widen at the sight of it all.

"Mercedes!" Kurt calls again, and then from behind a rack of dresses the woman herself emerges, a selection of belts thrown over one shoulder, a bolt of material in hand and a safety pin between her lips.

Her eyes light up at the sight of Tina and she drops everything on an empty chair, approaching the other woman with a broad smile and folding her into her arms. "Hey girl! Long time no see!" she greets warmly while squeezing Tina gently. Pulling back, she rubs the smaller girl's arms. "God, you're like a little popsicle!"

"C-cold out," Tina smiles, because she's always found the stylist's mother-henning sweet rather than annoying.

Between them, Kurt claps his hands together, a man on a mission. "Mercedes, we need your help. Tina's incredibly handsome doctor boyfriend has asked her to accompany him to a hospital benefit in two days and she has nothing to wear." Putting on his most wide-eyed, pleading look, he loops his arm around Mercedes' shoulder and rocks on his heels. "And I know you always have the most fabulous things just hiding away back here."

Snorting a laugh, Mercedes lightly shoves his chest. "Flattery will get you everywhere Kurt Hummel."

He grins, moving to help Tina off with her heavy winter coat. "I hoped so. Now," he begins, looking Tina up and down, one hand stroking his chin. "We need something subtle, but stunning. And _not _black," he says pointedly, frowning at her all-midnight ensemble.

Rolling her eyes, Tina clutches her sweater around her. "I like black."

Mercedes however, is studying her with a stylist's eye. "No, he's right. If we want something to knock your man's socks off, then it has to be something he's not used to seeing you in." She 'hmms' for a second, and then waves her hand at Tina. "Okay, I have a plan. Tina, get undressed. Kurt, go away. I'll call you when I've worked my magic."

Kurt nods his head, pressing a kiss to Tina's temple. "I'll be back," he promises. "Be good and listen to Mercedes."

Tina can't help but laugh at that, and swats him away as she disappears behind the curtained off area. "Yes _Dad." _

In the hour that follows, Tina tries on more dresses than she thinks she ever has in her life. She balks at an orange one and gets preternaturally attached to a sparkly dress in bright pink, but then finally, as she slides into the final dress and she sees Mercedes' eyes light up, she knows they've landed on the right one.

It's slate grey and simple, thick shoulder straps with a bandeau top and stopping a good number of inches above the knee. Stepping into the heels that Mercedes presents her, Tina tugs at the hem. "It's n-not too short?" she asks, turning slightly to look at herself in the mirror, smoothing her hands over the slightly ruched fabric.

"With your legs? Hell no," Mercedes assures, fixing Tina's hair so it falls over her shoulders. "Keep it accessory light and it's perfect." Picking up her phone, she dials an extension, and barely says three words before hanging up. Equally, barely thirty seconds pass before Kurt comes practically skipping into the room, and when he sees her he breaks into a grin, his hands covering his mouth.

"Oh my God, you do have a body under all the funeral gowns!" he teases, taking her hand and making her twirl around for him. "God Tina, you look amazing."

The honesty in his voice is enough to make Tina blush, and she presses a hand against her warm cheek. "Really?" she asks shyly.

Reaching into Tina's coat pocket, Kurt digs around until he finds her cell. "You are calling Mike right now and telling him you're going. It would be an insult to this dress not to."

His voice is insistent and resolute, and taking the phone from his hand Tina bites her lip, unable to stop a smile.

xXx

When Tina opens the door, it's to find Mike in a well-tailored tux, one hand fingering his bowtie and the other slid in his pocket. At the sight of his girlfriend his jaw drops slightly, and he goldfishes for a second. "Uh…wow."

Laughing, Tina spins around with her long curls trailing down her back. "You l-like?"

Reaching out, he tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "You look… beautiful."

Blushing, she holds her arm out. "Could you do up my bracelet?" It's sparkly and simple; he steps into the apartment he turns her wrist over and does the clasp up at her pulse point. Then taking her hand, he presses a kiss against her palm. Smiling, she rubs his cheek with her fingers. "Thank you."

"Thank you for coming with me."

Picking up her coat, Tina lets him hold it out for her to slide her arms inside. Before doing up the buttons, he runs a finger along her jaw line and, leaning down, places a kiss against her bared collarbone. Tina sighs deeply and arches into him. "Miiike," she murmurs, gripping his lapels. "You'll wrinkle your suit."

"Mmm," he presses one more kiss against her neck before pulling away. "You're right." He takes a deep breath, stepping back to allow her to do up the buttons on her coat. Reaching out, he tugs the sash on her coat so he can tie it up. "Are you ready to go?"

She's just reaching out for her purse when the lock clicks behind them and the door is pushed open. Kurt stands in the doorway, his messenger bag slung across his chest. "Well don't you just look snazzy," he notes, pulling his scarf off and regarding them both with an arched eyebrow. "I'm impressed."

A smile pricks Tina's lips and she looks up at him from under half-mast eyelashes. "Think w-we're acceptable?" she asks with a teasing cock of her head, and at the question Kurt scrutinises them carefully.

Walking over, he gently tugs one of Tina's curls out from the collar of her coat and picks a speck of lint from Mike's lapel. "I think you'll do fine," he assures her, pressing an absentminded kiss to her temple before wandering back towards the table. "I take it I shouldn't wait up?"

The only answer he gets is the two of them grinning at each other.

xXx

The hotel ballroom is filled with people and noises; clinking glasses, chatter, and music from the well-dressed string quartet in the corner surround her and Tina feels her eyes widen at the sheer opulence of the place. She keeps Mike's hand tight in hers as he finds two glasses of champagne for them, and they clink the flutes together the ring of the crystal light in the din of the room. "Cheers," he says, quirking a smile and taking a sip, and she does the same, enjoying the sharp taste of the bubbles on her tongue.

They're both looking around – Mike pointing out a few people that he knows he's going to have to schmooze with later – when he spots familiar blonde head across the room. "Hey, there's Santana and Brittany," he smiles and tugs Tina's hand gently. "Let's go say hello."

The two women are standing and talking, and as Tina and Mike approach they watch as Brittany reaches down and rubs her thumb under Santana's lower lip, as though to smooth away smudged lipstick. From Santana's shy smile, Tina wonders if that's _exactly _what she's doing.

"Good evening ladies."

Mike's voice is purposefully low and playfully seductive, and Brittany's face lights up when she realises it's him. Throwing her arms around his neck, she doesn't seem to care about wrinkling his suit or her own red strapless dress. Brit's golden hair falls in forties-style waves over one shoulder and her legs seem to go on for miles. "Mike!" she greets with a grin, pressing carefully glossed lips against his cheeks. "You look like Asian James Bond!"

"License to thrill, hey Tina?" Santana says with a smirk, elbowing the other woman gently before pressing a kiss against her cheek. "You both look smokin' hot, I have to say. Tina I am approving that dress so hard." She claps her hands together in almost-silent applause. "Yay."

"Thanks," Tina replies with a slight blush, smoothing her hand over the skirt of her dress and tugging it slightly down her thighs. "You b-both look amazing."

Doing a little twirl, Santana shows off her cobalt blue dress and high strappy shoes, and Tina definitely notices the beautiful diamond earrings in her ears and the ring that she's never seen Santana wear before; looking over at where Brittany is talking to Mike, she notices a matching ring on her hand too. "When d-did the two of you get m-married?" she asks curiously, taking another sip of her champagne.

The smile that Santana wears when she looks over at Brittany is one of pure joy and love, and her cheeks pink with obvious pride. "August 4th. As soon as we had the chance we leapt at it."

"I b-bet it was beautiful," Tina grins, meaning it completely, because Santana and Brittany are *such* a stunning couple – gorgeous together and apart – that she can't imagine they would have looked anything other than breathtaking.

Smiling back, Santana nods – not in a conceited manner – in acknowledgement that yes, it had been a beautiful day. "You mean Mike's never shown you pictures?" she asks, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Tina shakes her head.

Leaning over, Santana interrupts Brittany and Mike's conversation so she can punch him lightly in the arm. "Chang, why has your girlfriend never seen photos of my wedding?" she asks in a teasingly stern manner, one eyebrow raised, and Tina can see Mike roll his eyes good-humouredly.

"They're all at my apartment," he explains with a half shrug. "I'll bring some over next time I come." His words are directed at Tina, but she knows they're more for Santana's benefit because the young Latina nods her head as though accepting this compromise.

Tina leans slightly into Mike's side, raising her glass to her lips and looking out over the ballroom. "Are Matt and Sam c-coming tonight?"

Grabbing a canapé from a passing waiter, Santana pops the small morsel between her lips and then licks her thumb free from any crumbs. "Sam has to work," she tells Tina and Mike (because Mike knew Sam had been trying to swap his shift so he could join them). "But Matt finishes in a half hour so he'll be coming after."

Tina can feel Mike's body swaying lightly to the sound of the band, and she lets herself relax into a smile. His visceral, unstoppable reaction to music is one of the things she's realised she loves about him; there's just something so beautifully unguarded about it. She's just about to ask Santana where she got her dress when she is interrupted by the sound of an unfamiliar voice calling familiar names.

"Chang! Lopez!"

The woman who approaches them is very tall – taller even than Mike – with cropped curly hair and small hoop earrings and a pink silk shirt under an impeccably tailored suit. When she comes up to their group she pats Mike's shoulder in greeting and grins at all four of them. "Santana, you didn't tell me you were bringing your better half," she smiles, leaning over to kiss Brittany on the cheek. "Hey pumpkin."

Brittany grins back, like a little kid seeing Santa. "Hey Dr. Beiste."

The tall woman squeezes Santana in a gentle hug before turning back to Brittany. "This one treating you right?" she asks, jabbing her thumb in Santana's direction in a way that makes her roll her eyes and smirk, but Brittany just reaches out and links their pinkies together.

"Never better," she assures, smiling at Santana, and the brunette smiles shyly back.

It's at that moment that Dr. Beiste seems to notice an unfamiliar face in the group, and her eyes light up as she notices Tina standing next to Mike. Resting her hand on his shoulder, she looks between the two. "Chang, do you have someone to introduce me to?"

Tina feels her heartbeat speed up slightly, but then Mike's hand is on the small of her back and she can feel the warmth through her dress, solid and reassuring. "Dr. Beiste, this is my girlfriend Tina Cohen-Chang. Tina, this is our ER Chief, Dr. Shannon Beiste."

Dr. Beiste's hand is large and her handshake firm but warm. "Very nice to meet you Tina," she says, and her voice is so genuine and happy that Tina smiles back, albeit as shyly as Santana before.

"Nice to m-meet you too," she says honestly, tucking her hair behind her ear. If all Mike's co-workers are as friendly as this, Tina doesn't think it will be such a bad evening after all.

Dr. Beiste's laughs, winking towards Tina and patting Mike on the shoulder again, "I take it this little lady is the reason you've actually been leaving the hospital when your shift finishes?" she teases, and standing next to them Santana snorts her laughter. With a conspiring smile Beiste leans down towards Tina, her voice a stage whisper. "We used to have to have security escort him out so he'd sleep."

Mike simply rubs Tina's back with a subtle swipe of his thumb and Tina giggles as she bites gently at her bottom lip. "I'm glad I c-could help," she replies simply.

Over Tina's head, Dr. Beiste seems to catch sight of someone, and she sighs slightly. "Sorry to break up the party," she apologises. "But Chang, I need you to come talk to somebody for me. His name's Sandy Ryerson and he's donated a heap of money to the hospital but heaven help me if he's not three blocks short of a bushel of potatoes."

Santana's eyes catch with Tina's then; there's a knowing smile and a subtle shaking of the head, and Tina has to stifle the giggle that threatens her lips. The smirking seems to have karmic retribution however, when Beiste lays her hand on Santana's shoulder. "You know what Lopez, you should probably come for moral support. Or to keep me entertained, I really don't mind which."

Lips pout – just for a second – but then Santana is throwing her hands up and downing the rest of her champagne. "Fine," she huffs, setting the glass on a passing tray and leaning up to kiss Brittany on the cheek. "I'll be back," she promises. "Remember don't eat the crab puffs – you'll get sick."

Likewise, Mike presses a kiss against the corner of Tina's mouth and then murmurs against her hair, "I'll be back as soon as I can."

She had known what kind of evening this was though – knew this was part of his job and that he wouldn't be able to be by her side all night – so she just nods her head and waves him off. "I'll b-be here."

The three of them disappear into the crowd leaving Brittany and Tina standing together, and the blonde woman breaks into a gentle smile at Tina's obvious unease. "It's okay," Brittany assures, pushing her hair behind her shoulder. "My first one of these was super scary too." As a waiter passes, she swaps their empty glasses for full ones, handing Tina the bubbly drink with a smile. "You can stay with me if you want, because you don't know anyone else."

Relief and gratitude floods through Tina, and she can't contain the smile that is directed towards the blonde. "Thank you."

They both sip their drinks for a moment, staring out around the room to the ebbing crowds and flowing conversation. Tina's eyes are fixed on Mike for a moment as he shakes hands with an obsequious looking man in a salmon pink suit. Mike's nose is wrinkled in obvious – to her anyway – unease and she has to tear her eyes away from him because otherwise she thinks she might laugh. Turning back to Brittany next to her, who is humming gently under her breath and swaying to the music, Tina licks her lips.

"So how d-did you and Santana m-meet?" she asks, curious but polite, and is relieved when the other woman breaks into a large smile.

"I got bitten by a duck."

The laughter that breaks across Tina's lips is bright and real and confused. "What?"

Brittany smiles, turning her glass of champagne in her hand so the bubbles twist in a tiny effervescent tornado in her glass. "I work in Central Park Zoo," she explains. "And Herbert wasn't being very nice that day."

"Herbert?"

"He's the duck. And see, he had hurt his leg, and I was trying to pick him up and he bit me and there was blood so my boss made go to the hospital." She holds her hand out, pointing to the tiny scar between her thumb and forefinger, faded white and pale on her tanned skin.

"And that's where you m-met Santana?"

Brittany nods her head, watching the other side of the room where Santana's dark hair slides down her back; as she pushes it behind her ear seemingly out of habit her ring sparkles on her hand. Tina watches as Brittany's overcome with a small, private smile, apparently completely unaware of the way it lights up her face. "Mmhmm," she affirms. "She was my nurse. And she was so pretty. I mean, she was cleaning up my hand and that's what I said to her. Then I asked if she wanted to come back to my house and see my pussy, and we've been together ever since."

Tina's taking a sip of her drink as Brittany speaks and almost chokes on the fizzy liquid. "That's… nice?"

"I don't think Santana liked Lord Tubbington that much though."

Tina feels her brow scrunch in confusion. "Who?"

"Lord Tubbington," Brittany says again with a serious look on her face as she fiddles with the slim chain around her wrist. "My cat. I told you, Santana was coming back to see him."

Tina feels a smile break across her face and she has to duck her chin for a moment to compose herself. Her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks and she pushes down the urge to giggle because the other girl is looking at her with such sweet wide eyes. "It's a r-really good story," Tina grins, brushing Brittany's elbow lightly with a carefully painted finger.

Brittany smiles back warmly, her body swaying gently to the soft string music. "Thank you. Santana doesn't like it very much."

"No?"

Shaking her head, Brittany takes a sip of her drink, licking the tart liquid from her lips. "I used to think it was because some of her friends didn't know she likes sweet lady kisses, but then she told me it's just because it makes her feel stupid."

Tina's about to ask another question when a figure sidles up next to them – all swaying hips and quirked red lips – and then Santana's hand is on Brittany's arm. "Mind if I steal my wife back?" she asks, lacing their fingers together. At Tina's quick glance over her shoulder, Santana says sympathetically, "He's still stuck with the weirdo. I faked a trip to the ladies' room. Sorry."

Understanding – but also having a sudden tickle of loneliness – Tina nods her head. She can't miss the way Brittany's fingers squeeze Santana without hesitation; Tina can't imagine denying them with the way they're looking at each other. "Knock yourselves out," she entreats, and Santana shows her a grateful smile over her shoulder as the two women move out onto the dance floor and instantly melt into each other's arms.

Taking a deep breath, Tina drinks the last of her champagne and then chews on her lips for a second. She's lost sight of Mike somewhere in the crowd and feels nervous for a minute – and alone – until she hears a voice behind her and feels a hand graze her elbow. "Think I could have this dance?"

Turning around, she finds not Mike – who she expected to say those words – but another face that makes her smile. "Hi Matt."

He's looking dapper, and tugs on his bowtie – actually making it more crooked. It's a good look for him and he holds out his hand for her, prompting a physical answer to his question. Taking it, she follows him onto the dance floor, letting him put his hand on her waist as they sway to the music. "Where's that man of yours? I can't believe he left you all alone looking like that. Any guy would be a fool not to try and sweep you off your feet."

It's a line, but said with such an over-exaggerated wink that she can't help but laugh and relax slightly more in his arms. "Mike's t-talking with Dr Bieste and some investor?" she says, looking over her shoulder as though he might just appear at the mention of his name. "W-weird guy in a p-pink suit?"

Matt scrunches his face, making Tina laugh again, and he spins her under his arm. "I feel like I should go and rescue him."

Caught back in his grip, she raises an eyebrow. "You're n-not going to are you?"

Barking a laugh, Matt shakes his head. "And give you up to Changster's Jagger hips? No chance."

They dance for a while longer, Matt steering her around the room and pointing out different characters from the hospital. "That's Dr. Pillsbury – head of the Psyche ward," he nods his head towards the beautifully dressed redhead in the corner, rubbing her thumb along the lip of the glass she inspects closely. "And there's Lauren Zizes – head Lab Technician." He points to the curvy woman in a navy dress, laughing with a tall man with a bushy beard as she drinks something bright green in a cocktail glass. Tina notices Matt catch the woman's eye and wink, unsubtly. She rolls her eyes behind her glasses, but Tina can see the smile quirking the edge of her lips.

She stays with Matt – even stopping for another glass of champagne and she knows she shouldn't have anymore because she's beginning to feel flushed and giggly – and he tells her stories from the hospital; stories of him and Mike as med students and Santana saving their asses on more than one occasion and then being Interns, where Santana saved their asses on more than one occasion…and a few time even since they'd become Residents too. Tina laughs hard and brightly and is still giggling when she feels a pair of arms slide around her waist, and the familiar feel of a strong, hard body press against her back. "And here I thought you might be lonely," Mike teases, kissing her lightly behind the ear and stealing the champagne from her hand, helping himself to a large sip.

"Matt was b-being a gentleman and k-keeping me company," she tells him, taking her drink back pointedly but at the same time leaning back against his body.

"Your girl's got some moves," Matt notes with a teasing smile, propping himself up easily against the bar.

Letting his hand move from her waist to her hip, Mike smoothes his thumb in a gentle arc over the soft material of her dress. "I know it." Turning just a fraction in his grip, Tina smiles softly at Mike and it seems to be this that prompts him to ask her, "Dance with me?"

She feels bad leaving Matt alone but he waves them both off with a scoff. It's all the permission Tina needs; she lets Mike lead her onto the dance floor, one of Mike's hands clutching hers and the other resting warmly and firmly at the small of her back. They sway together, easily moving in time to the music without any conscious thought, ignoring how the crowd moves, parts, and ebbs around them.

Tina rubs her thumb over his knuckles as they dance. "I like your friends," she states simply as he tucks their joined hands in closer to his chest. "Santana is awesome, and Matt's hilarious, and Brittany is j-just _so _sweet."

Leaning forward, Mike presses a kiss to her forehead. "They like you too if that means anything," he assures. "And Dr. Bieste has already told me I look ten years younger since I've been with you." Laughing, he shrugs his shoulders. "I assume that was meant to be a compliment."

Reaching up, she brushes his cheek lightly. "I'd take it as one."


	9. Chapter 9

They stumble in the apartment together – after three tries to get the key in the lock – and Mike's mouth is already over Tina's when the door shuts behind them.

"Mmm," she murmurs into his kiss, her hands on his chest and pushing away gently. She giggles against his cheek as his lips wander across her jaw-line, his hands holding her hips tightly against his own, "You taste like champagne."

"I don't know how," he replies, tugging her lower lip gently between his teeth. "But you always taste like lemonade." Walking her backwards with his hands on her hips, he ends up pressing her body against the hallway wall and kissing her hard and needy until her breath is gone and she actually gasps a little when he pulls away.

Her chest heaves, full breasts straining against the smooth material of her dress. "Lipgloss," she says, and it seems almost incongruous until her pink tongue darts out of her mouth and swipes across her swollen lips. Fingers come up to his bowtie and work at the knot; carefully manipulating the material until she can pull it from around his neck. Tossing it aside – and not caring where it lands – she begins to work at the buttons near his throat, leaning up and pressing a warm, wet kiss to his Adam's apple.

With her back still pressed up against the wall, his hands slide up her thighs and under the fitted skirt of her dress, grasping her tightly and lifting her so her feet are off the ground; she's being held up by his body against hers and his firm grip on her legs with her arms looped around his neck for support. Heels clatter to the group beneath them. He presses his hips against hers hard enough that it makes her gasp and squirm and - "Mike, _please_."

Neither one of them is quite sure what she's begging for, but the simple desperation in her tone is enough for him to let her down so her bare feet touch the floor. Lips latching onto her neck for a brief second, he palms her breasts until her nipples show through the shimmer of her dress. Then taking her hand he pulls her down the hall, and they're just outside the bedroom door when he stops dead. For a moment Tina's confused, and the feeling isn't abated at all by Mike tipping his head back and beginning to laugh uproariously.

Smoothing her mussed hair away from her face, Tina's brow knits in a frown. "What?"

Looking down at her with an amused smile – still drenched through with lust – Mike pulls a piece of paper from the door and hands it to her. In the dim light, even after quite a few glasses of champagne, she recognises the handwriting in an instant.

_Tina and Doctor Mike - _

_Just a note to say I hope you had great fun and danced the night away._

_That being said, a warning: if you as much as rip one stitch out of that dress I will kill you, scalp you, and let Mercedes use your hair to make a scarf. I will then wear that scarf proudly and announce to anyone who asks that it's made of the carcass of my ex-roomate and her boyfriend who didn't have any respect for fashion. _

_You have been warned._

_- Love Kurt._

Mike's hand smoothes up her back, over her dress, and then slides one of the straps off her shoulder, kissing the bared skin that follows. The other strap comes next and then her breasts are barely covered by the slipping material. "What are you d-doing?" she giggles as she feels his lips press against the bumps of her spine, following the path of newly freed flesh as he kneels on the floor behind her. His teeth tug the trim of her panties as he slides the dress down her legs.

"We've been warned," he reiterates, lifting up first one of her feet and then the other, gently pulling the dress free. "I don't want to end my life as an accessory."

Carefully smoothing the dress over his arm, he takes hold of her hips, placing a warm, long kiss to the small of her back, his forehead resting on her spine. It makes tingles shoot up her body and all the way down to her fingertips and she trembles, feeling alternately hot and cold and completely weak in the knees. "_Mike." _

Standing up – and pushing her hair aside so he can place another kiss at the nape of her neck – he runs his hand down her arm until their fingers tangle together. "Come on," he says with a little tug, pushing the door to her bedroom open. A small sliver of light breaks through the not-quite-drawn curtains, highlighting the half-finished picture sitting on her easel and the askew blankets on the hastily made bed.

Letting go of her hand, Mike leaves Tina standing in the middle of the room, still wearing only her panties and jewellery, and she watches as he carefully opens her closet, takes out a hanger and threads the dress onto it, making sure the straps aren't twisted and smoothing down the skirt. Hanging it on the closet door, he nods his head in appreciation of his own handiwork. "There," he says. Then turning to face her, he holds out his hand, "May I have this dance?"

It's ridiculous – Tina mostly naked and so turned on that she's shifting foot-to-foot and Mike still in his full tux, including shoes, missing only his bowtie – but she can't help but nod her head and let him pull her flush against his hard body. He hums softly into her ear as he sways them back and forth; his feet keep perfect time without any effort and one hand massages her bare hip. Standing on tiptoes, she brushes her lips against his first softly, and then with more purpose. "I liked being with you tonight," she tells him, a murmur into his mouth, feeling the vibrations from his humming through his chest as she presses against him.

"Mmm, I liked you being with me too," he agrees, spinning her under his arm and making her laugh as her hair whips behind her shoulders. As he pulls her back against his body, his head ducks so his lips tease at the pulse point in her neck, and she finds herself arching against him with a mewl. "I like dancing with you," he says, trailing his index finger around the small of her back in a ticklish pattern until she's squirming and giggling. "I like making you laugh." Then letting go of her hand he moves it to her breast, pinching her nipple lightly and making her squeak in surprise. "I like making you do that."

"Tease," she laughs throatily as he cups her breasts, lips still nipping and sucking at her neck. "Why are you still wearing all your clothes and I'm n-naked and wet and about two seconds from asking you to tear my underwear off?"

Mike half groans, half laughs then, and he doesn't even argue as her hands come up and slide his jacket off his broad shoulders and then go to making quick work of his shirt buttons. When that's on the floor too – neither of them even pausing to care about the crumpled state of the material – he stands shirtless and firm-bodied. "Say please," he prompts with a grin, his eyes slightly glassy from the alcohol but his hands firm and sure as they slide over the curve of her ass. Hooking his finger in her underwear, he slides the silky material between him thumb and forefinger, not even pretending that the way his knuckle brushes against her is an accident.

On tip toes again, she manages to tilt her hips into his touch and at the same time bring her teeth down on his earlobe in a way that makes his body jerk a response, his fingers flexing against her sensitive skin. "Take off your pants."

Her voice is low and firm and she's looking up at him under her painted eyelashes with dark, hungry eyes. Her fingers find the button of his tuxedo pants and ease it out of the hole, painfully slowly, before she trails her hand down the carefully pressed pleat in the smart material, feeling the long length of his thigh.

"_Tina," _he breathes sharply in, his legs weakening for a beat as she grips the material and tugs. When it reaches his feet he toes off his shoes and the pants follow; Tina quirks one eyebrow at the sight of his pulled up black dress socks and begins to laugh. "You have a problem with my socks?" he asks playfully, hands encircling her waist. Tina laughs harder as he tugs her closer and presses wet, noisy kisses all over her face. "You don't think they're sexy?"

Giggling hard and moving so her back arches and her breasts bounce, Tina tries to squirm away from his kisses. "Nooo!" she laughs as he picks her up – hands firmly under her ass so her feet dangle – and tosses her without warning onto the fluffy comforter. When he goes to crawl over her body she turns over and buries her face in the pillow. "No socks!"

There's a laughing curse from his lips and then the sound of rustling material and then his hand is warm on the small of her back. "They're gone," he whispers into her ear, laying down so his body is pressed into her side. "So's everything else."

Shaking her head against the pillows, Tina's shoulder tense with barely suppressed giggles and her voice is muffled. "Don't believe you."

Snuggling up closer, he grinds against her hip, letting his hand trail up and down her naked thigh. "You sure?" Pressing a hot kiss to her shoulder he allows his fingers to dip between her legs, teasing her so that her breath snatches and she tilts her hips up towards him. Wiggling his hand so his thumb dips inside her as his forefinger brushes her clit, he bites down on the skin of her neck. "More?" he asks, his voice low and breathy and his hand rubs firmly against her.

Shifting against the blankets, Tina turns her head just enough that Mike can see her pout her lips and that's all the prompting he needs to lean in and press his own mouth against hers. Removing his hand – to a small whimper from Tina – he rearranges them so her leg is draped over his hip and their chests are pressed together. Tina cups the back of his neck, kissing him, breathing in the scent of his cologne and his shampoo and everything that just smells like Mike; with her free hand reaches down between their bodies and takes him in hand, guiding him inside.

He can't resist thrusting up into her, and she lifts her leg up to try and gain purchase. Holding tightly onto her hips, he pulls himself upright a little so he's leaning against the stacked pillows and she's straddling him and the leverage improves enough that it makes both of them groan. Grasping onto Mike's shoulders, Tina giggles with a sigh as his lips latch onto her nipple, his teeth tugging gently.

They rock together, Mike's mouth on her breasts, her hair tangled in his fist. His other hand dips between them, teasing her, making her slick and wet and she shifts so the angle changes and Mike's brushing a point inside her that makes her stomach clench and her breath catch. "Right there," she breathes, holding herself still for a beat, allowing him to move up inside her and hit the same spot again. Goosebumps break over her body and a flush spreads across her cheeks and chest. "Again," she pleads, her voice thin and breathy.

Ever the gentleman, Mike moves his hips again and presses his thumb down on her clit and is rewarded when Tina's body starts shaking and the blush deepens and her thighs – and muscles – grip him tightly. "_Fuck, _Tee," he groans into her sternum, feeling his legs tremble as he thrusts up into her hard enough to steal her breath. Flipping them over – so she's pressed against the mattress as she comes down from her orgasm – he keeps driving into her over again and harder until he reaches his peak and then feels himself falling fast, blood rushing in his ears as his hips spasm.

When they both come around, they're clinging to each other and Tina's pressing feather-light kisses across his cheekbones. "Sleep," she tells him, rubbing his stomach in a gentle circle that makes his eyelashes flutter. "You don't have to work tomorrow."

"Mmm," he murmurs back, catching her lips with his more by accident than aim. "Love you Tee. Thank you for tonight."

"You're welcome," she smiles against his shoulder as his arms wrap around her. His chest is a warm, comfortable pillow and she feels her eyes begin to shut as well. "I love you too."

Neither realise that by the time they drop off to sleep, the sun is already rising outside.

XxX

When Tina wakes up it's to a mild throbbing behind her eyes – damn champagne – and a shiver as a breeze breaks through her curtains and tickles her bare shoulders. Eyes still closed, she shifts in the bed, moving closer to the centre, hoping to seek out some body heat from the person lying next to her.

When she doesn't immediately meet Mike's warm, hard body – and hugging arms tugging her against his chest – she cracks her eyelids open. Cursing in the shards of winter sun peeking into the room, she rubs her eyes with the back of her wrist. The sheets and pillows next to her are mussed, but empty. Usually, she would assume Mike'd been called into work but his beeper is on the nightstand and his tuxedo pants are still strewn across the floor. Plus Dr Beiste had _promised _him the day.

Leaning under the bed, Tina feels around until she hits an abandoned pair of pyjama pants, and tugs them up her legs. Mike's Stanford hoody is hung up on the back of the door and it only takes two steps – cursing all the way because _damn _it's cold – before she's tugging it over her head.

Pushing her hair back from her face, Tina pulls the bedroom door open and is surprised when she hears two masculine voices laughing, followed by tinny, upbeat music.

"You're crazy! He uses his brain to _avoid _violence – that has to be commendable."

"I'm not saying it's not commendable, I'm saying…swords are cooler."

"Kurt has a pair of sai…"

"You know, yellow jumpsuits really shouldn't be hot."

Curiosity gets the better of her and she wanders towards the living room, arms wrapped around her waist. What she sees there is enough to make her break into laughter despite her headache.

Mike and Blaine sit on the sofa – both cross-legged like school children – with bowls of cereal in their hands. Taking a closer look, Tina can see that Mike's deigned to share his precious Captain Crunch. Both dressed in sweats, Mike shirtless and Blaine in a threadbare t-shirt and glasses, Tina can't help but find them both ridiculously adorable as they bounce on the sofa and sing along to the 'Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles' theme song.

Hearing her laughter, both men whip their heads around. Mike's hair sticks up in back and Blaine's un-gelled curls bob around his head.

"Tina!" Mike bounces up, almost tripping over the coffee table, saved half by natural balance and half luck. He places his bowl down as he stumbles towards her. "Did we wake you up?"

Arms around her waist, he kisses her lightly in deference to the company, but Blaine's just nodding his head as he takes a deep sip of his Jamaican blend coffee. "Sorry Tee," he agrees. "We'll try and keep it down. But your boyfriend is very confused about the coolest turtle."

Mike shoots Blaine a glare, but the sting is removed by the way he playfully swats at his knee. "Raphael."

"Donatello," Blaine insists, smacking him back, but then curses as milk sloshes over the edge of his bowl and onto the thick rug. He hastily puts his bowl down on the coffee table and hops towards the kitchen, hiking up his sweatpants as he grabs some kitchen paper.

Her hands against Mike's chest, Tina pushes him gently away from her and back towards the couch as Blaine mops up the puddle. "Kurt still in bed?"

Blaine nods, pushing his glasses up his nose and flicking his hand towards the bedroom door. "He was muttering something about box pleats and rum soufflé. I left him to sleep."

Rubbing her forehead, Tina pulls the sleeves of Mike's sweatshirt over her hands. "I'm going back to bed with him," she murmurs, pointing towards the bedroom. "You b-boys don't cause trouble."

Mike and Blaine share a look; Mike slightly surprised and Blaine amused as Tina disappears into the shadowy room "Should I be jealous?" Mike asks, spooning another mouthful of cereal into his mouth.

"Are you seriously asking me that?"

"I just feel like I should be jealous of her getting into bed with another man."

Blaine's grinning and just shrugs his shoulders. "When Tina moved to the city they could barely afford a tiny apartment. Temperamental heating. Only one bed. So I think by now…it's more habit than anything else. She's his little spoon."

Watching Tina disappear through the door, Mike pouts. "I like it when she's _my _little spoon."

In the bedroom, Tina finds Kurt sprawled face-up in the centre of the bed, long-sleeved grey t-shirt showing a sliver of skin at his stomach where it doesn't quite meet his sweats. Nudging him with a gentle push, he cracks an eye open at the feel of her hand on his shoulder and turns over with a groan to give her enough room in the bed. She snuggles up against him feeling his arm go over her waist, and he grumbles as her hair gets in his face. "Tina," he grouses, blowing air against the back of her head. "Hair."

Reaching up, she tugs the dark strands over her shoulder but doesn't open her eyes. "Shhh," she orders succinctly. "It's still freaking early and your b-boyfriend doesn't know how to sleep."

"Neither does yours," he grouses, tugging the blanket up over Tina's shoulders.

Tina buries her head in the pillows. "Shhh."

XxX

It's hours later when Tina finally opens her eyes again; she can tell because lifting her head seems far too difficult and the sun is fully up and streaming through the window. She feels a hand on her calf but tries to shake it off, closing her eyes again and burying her head in the pillow. "I'm not on your side," she grumbles, trying to move her feet out of the way, but the grip only sneaks under the cuff of her pants and wraps around her ankle. The hand is larger than Kurt's and she recognises the way the thumb sweeps over her skin. "Mmm…where's Kurt?"

"Shower," Mike tells her, pulling his hands away from her feet and shifting further onto the bed so he can stroke her hair back from her face. Leaning down, he presses a soft kiss to her forehead. "I thought maybe I should wake you up. It's after 10."

Shaking her head, she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him down towards her. "Too early," she argues, burying her head in his shoulder, happy when he doesn't tug her up but instead stretches out next to her.

"We can go get lunch," he tells her, feathering kisses across the bridge of her nose. "Or take a walk in the park, or whatever you want." His lips land on hers and she wriggles underneath him so he's leaning over her body, their hips pressed together. "The weather's beautiful." Tugging her bottom lip between his teeth causes her to arch her back and mewl into his mouth.

"Lunch later," she tells him, hooking a leg around his hips, grinding in slow circular motions. "I want you."

Pulling back from her, he takes in her face and laughs. "You haven't even opened your eyes yet." He runs the pad of his thumb lightly over her eyelids, making her lashes flutter against her sleep-flushed cheeks. "You're going to fall back to sleep."

"Won't," she argues. "D-don't need to see."

As if to prove it, her hand slips down the back of his sweats and squeezes his ass as her teeth scrape at his neck. It makes him moan into her ear. "_Tee_…"

Their mouths meet, hot and eager and lips soft and searching; they kiss until Tina's light-headed and the nerves are firing all along her skin.

Mike's hand is just creeping up under her sweatshirt when a wet towel hits Tina in the face and her eyes fly open. "Ack!" Kurt's voice is disgusted and exasperated and he manages to look haughty with only a thick navy towel secured around his waist. "Out out out – you two are _not_ having sex in my bed!"

Giggling, Mike and Tina scramble off the bed, ducking to avoid the balled up socks and random items of clothing Kurt throws in their direction. A copy of Vogue hits Mike in the back of the head but he just yelps and laughs as they run down the hallway, narrowly avoiding crashing into Blaine as he exits the bathroom in a robe.

"Where's the fire?" he asks, confused, toothbrush between his lips and curls damp and loose as he looks between their disappearing backs and his boyfriend's naked torso. Kurt simply folds his arms across his chest.

The only answer Blaine gets is two laughing voices as Tina and Mike shut the bedroom door behind them, and Kurt's rolling eyes.

xXx

It's not snowing on Christmas morning, but it's cold enough that it feels like it might. New York is bitter and overcast, and Tina and Mike ring in the holiday curled up in bed with glasses of champagne in hand and layers of blankets tucked around their legs. Mike holds a sprig of mistletoe over their heads as they share their first Christmas kiss, and Tina can taste the tart bubbly liquid on his lips.

They exchange gifts in the living room – cuddled beside the crooked but artfully decorated tree with carols playing in the background – and Tina feels tears prick at her eyes when she opens the tiny box holding a pair of perfect black pearl earrings nestled in a bed of red velvet.

"Mike!" she breathes, running her fingers over the smooth spheres. "They're beautiful…but they're t-too much."

She's still arguing when he sweeps her hair behind her shoulder and fixes first the left one in her ear, then the right. It's a ridiculous combination – expensive jewellery, purple-and-pink striped knee socks to ward off the chill and a blue plaid shirt of Mike's that barely skims her thighs – but she feels like a princess.

"They're just right," he argues, hopping up to check the almond cookies in the oven, a particular Christmas treat from his childhood he couldn't go without. He bites the end off of one, cursing at the heat, and blowing on it before turning the oven temperature down. Looking back to where she's still knelt on the floor he sees her fingers ghosting her earlobes. "Tina, I promise."

When she looks up, her eyes are wide and she chews on her bottom lip. "I only g-got you a sweater," she reminds him; she looks so upset that Mike can't help but throw himself back onto the floor next to her, popping the rest of the still-warm cookie between her lips before he kisses the tip of her nose.

"The sweater is perfect and you are perfect," he assures, cupping her cheeks in his hands. "Merry Christmas Tina."

Licking her lips, she swallows the cookie, and her tongue is flooded with sugar and spices and warmth. "Merry Christmas Mike."

xXx

Breakfast is feeding each other strawberries and cookies and toasting with more champagne, and sex under the twinkling fairy lights of the Christmas tree. Tina's just about pulled Mike's shirt back on her shoulders when the phone rings; through oceans of static she manages to wish her parents a Merry Christmas in Tuvalu. The reception's terrible and she can hear her mother say something about rainstorms and the Philippines and February, so Tina just tells them she loves them and tries not to feel too disappointed when the phone line cuts out. Mike can tell she's feeling down, and so is relieved when the phone rings again and it's brimming with voices and carols and well-wishes from Lima.

Kurt and Blaine sing 'The Twelve Days of Christmas' down the phone barely making it to 'three French hens' before bursting into laughter, and Mike can hear the low bass that must belong to Kurt's father.

Tina gushes over her earrings to Kurt who demands pictures immediately. He thanks her for the scarf she gave him and she thanks him for the perfume, and Kurt keeps breaking into stifled laughter as he tries to tell her about the red reindeer sweater that his stepmother had knitted especially for Blaine.

"You'll love it," he tells her, and she can imagine the grin on her face. "She made Finn a green one to match. I feel like a Weasley."

Giggling back, Tina curls up on the sofa and lets Mike massage her shoulders from behind as she leans her back against his bent knees. "How d-did you get away without one?"

Kurt's voice is solicitous and something akin to scandalised. "You know I can't wear generic wool," he reminds her. "So she bought me cashmere instead."

The laughter that breaks from Tina's lips is bright and amused, and she tilts her head so it's leaning against Mike's forearm. She nuzzles into his skin as she responds to the boy she thinks of as a brother. "You're devious."

"You're just jealous."

She feels Mike's fingers move from her shoulders and begin to thread through her hair, somehow unknotting tension she didn't even know she was feeling. She sighs, deeply, feeling her muscles unkink and a shiver run down her spine, but continues her conversation. "You kn-now me too well."

In the background on the phone – at the Hummel/Hudsons'- Tina can hear Carole's voice calling through the house and Finn yelling back. Then Blaine's chiming laughter and the scraping of chair legs and the clattering of cutlery. Kurt, when he answers her, sounds amused and wry. "Would it help if I told you there's a suspiciously squashy package with your name on it still nestled under the tree for me to bring back with me?"

A squeak escapes Tina's lips before she can stop herself, and Mike's fingers still instantly. Tina tips her head back – studying Mike upside down – and mouths a 'sorry'. He rolls his eyes but his fingers pick up their gentle massaging as she grins into the phone. "I love Carole."

"I'll tell her."

"I love you t-too."

"I already knew that, dummy. Merry Christmas okay? And tell Mike too."

She knows Mike can hear Kurt's voice on the phone because when she tips her head back again Mike is wearing a small, slightly proud smile. "I will," she promises, closing her eyes briefly as Mike leans down and presses a kiss to her forehead. Their noses touch and she can't help but wiggle in an Eskimo kiss. "Tell everyone I love them. Your D-dad and Carole and Finn. And Blaine. And M-merry Christmas."

"I promise."

xXx

Despite the snow beginning to fall and settle on the streets, the Drop-in Centre's annual 'Christmas Together' bonanza is filled with the sounds of clattering cutlery and laughter, and Bing Crosby's crooning voice on a loop through the tinny sound system. A real tree stands in the corner sending waves of pine scent through the room and is festooned with glittery tinsel and hand-made decorations that Tina and her class had spent the last month making. Salt-dough stars and hand-sewn holly leaves peek from between the uneven branches and bright red bows.

Perched at the centre table, one voice manages to cut through the din.

"Christmastime is for everyone. Don't forget Baby Jesus was a Jew too, and his water-into-wine malarkey couldn't hold a candle to Noah's eggnog. Another cup!"

Ida's 73 and already pink-cheeked as her cup is refilled to the brim. She manages to hold court over the Drop-in Centre's Christmas dinner all the while bouncing Beth on her knees, and the little girl's golden curls bob around her head. "Besides," Ida declares with her broad Brooklyn accent, "With a girlie as beautiful as this one I don't care if he starts speakin' Hebrew and smashing the glasses all over the damn place, he's welcome."

"Thanks Ida," Puck calls from his place serving potatoes into a large dish, his 'kiss the cook' apron bright pink and not-quite ironic as Quinn floats past – hands full of a platter of turkey – and manages to brush her lips against his, her green skirt fluttering about her knees. "Not to mention I married the Catholic High School Queen of the Chastity Ball."

"There's that too."

Tina's at the other end of the table topping up wine and can't stop the broad grin that crosses her lips as Puck and Quinn smile and murmur soft words into each other's mouths; Quinn tugging at the straps of his apron so their bodies press flush together. In the hall, Ida sets Beth down on the floor and she begins to totter across the room. Setting the bottle of wine that she has in her hand down on the long table, Tina scoops up her god-daughter; she wears a red velvet dress with lacy collar and black silk bows and is so traditional and adorable Tina thinks she looks like she's from a painting.

"Hey baby girl," Tina greets, kissing Beth's smooth cheek and swaying her around to the piped-in music. The little girl gurgles and tugs on Tina's braid, making them both laugh as Tina pries her chubby fingers away. "No p-pulling," she insists, ticking Beth's side to soften the words. Then placing the little girl back down – who happily goes toddling off again – Tina picks up the wine bottle and continues her route.

As she reaches almost the end of the table, Ben, one of their oldest and most repeated Christmas visitors, raises an eyebrow at her as she tops off his glass, his thick white brow arching over his black-rimmed glasses. "When're you gonna be bringing us your own one, hmmm?" he asks in his lilting Polish accent, jabbing his thumb back over his shoulder to where Beth is now sat on the floor and playing with a piece of random ribbon. "None of us are getting any younger."

Tina can feel a blush slightly pinking her cheeks, but she just leans over and presses a kiss against his weathered cheek. "You know you're the only m-man for me," she teases, rubbing at the ruby-red lipstick mark she leaves behind with the pad of her thumb.

"Ack," he grouses, batting her hand away and reaching up to tug her braid himself. "You think we didn't notice you're here not with your usual fellows?"

She knows what he's implying – stealing a glance at Mike who's across the room and halfway up a ladder, somehow saving the Christmas decorations from their attempt at collapse – but makes light of Ben's words with a casual swish of her black and white plaid skirt. "Kurt and Blaine went home for Christmas this year, I t-told you."

"Leave her be Ben," Ida orders, taking one of the tureens of peas from a passing volunteer and spooning some onto her plate and onto Ben's next to her. "She shouldn't be on her own for Christmas and besides - this one's a doctor. Not to mention if I was 40 years younger I'd be taking a crack at him myself."

Tina breaks into laughter then, and doesn't even notice that her fingers find and trace over the pearls in her earlobes. "I've seen p-pictures of you at your w-wedding," she reminds Ida, resting a hand on the small woman's shoulder. "I d-don't think I'd stand a chance in that f-fight."

Snorting, Ida pats Tina's hand. "That's because you don't see how he looks at your Deary."

Running past to grab Beth from colliding into one of the more unsteady visitors, Quinn tucks her pink-streaked hair back behind her ears. "She's right," she agrees, scooping up the little girl in her arms and pressing a kiss against her soft hair. "Tina he looks at you like you hung the moon."

"Not to mention the sun and stars," Ida nods firmly, apparently decided on the subject.

From the seat next to her Ben nods his head, his fork slightly shaky in his hand as he eats his turkey. "Not like old days," he reminds her with a curt wag of his finger. "You won't get in trouble he knocks you up before you're married."

Tina can _definitely _feel the blush then; her face burns and she presses her hand to her flaming cheek out of embarrassment. "_Ben!" _she squeaks, and her other hand flies to her stomach, flattening against it as though to check his words don't have some kind of mysterious power over her fertility. "We've only b-been t-together four m-months."

He can hear her stutter worsening and reaches up, pulling her down so she's sitting on his lap. She's known him long enough – knows spent 40 years as a High School music teacher and has two granddaughters around her age who live in London – that she lets him wrap his arm around her waist. "I knew my wife five year before we married. You know what I think of those five year now? Wasted time I could have had with her. Time is nothing. You love this boy?"

All eyes on her – Ben's and Ida's and Quinn's and even little Beth's – Tina nods her head.

"Then you make your life with him. Make him make you happy."

There's a long pause, and Tina can feel a lump growing in her throat as her eyes begin to burn. She's saved from becoming over-emotional in public by the feel of a hand on her elbow, easing her gently out of Ben's lap. "Come help me with dessert," Quinn prompts, depositing Beth with the older man instead, who looks approving of the trade as his face lights up at the sight of the little girl. Dragging Tina across the hall and back towards the kitchen, Quinn takes one look at Tina's face before wrapping her up in her arms. "Too much?" she asks as Tina clings to the front of her dress, taking slow, shaky breaths.

Tina nods into Quinn's shoulder but pulls away, smoothing the front of her black blouse down. "Just a b-big thought," she admits, leaning heavily against the back wall and smoothing escaping tendrils of hair back from her face. "Ida and Ben are t-talking kids and…I mean I l-love Mike and it c-could maybe happen at some p-point but - "

"It's okay," Quinn insists, reaching out and squeezing Tina's hand gently, wishing her calm. "You don't have to explain to me."

Tina's eyes are dark and wet, and her face pale. "There are things I haven't t-told him."

"I figured."

Tina's just wiping one stray tear from her cheek when Mike's head pops around the wall; new sweater smart and buttoned down his broad chest. "Tee?"

Tina's eyes widen but Quinn just nods her head – acknowledgement that her tears aren't obvious – and they both turn to face Mike, wide smiles hitched on their faces. Quinn is the first to speak. "You got away from Derek?"

"After hearing his opinions on everything from Medicaid to the price of eggs," Mike grins, taking a step towards the two women but holding his hand out to his girlfriend. "Now I've been ordered to come and find Tina. Apparently this is the point in the afternoon where there's normally some kind of performance?"

Licking her lips, Tina nods her head, allowing him to thread his fingers with hers. "Kurt and Blaine love the Christmas d-duets," she explains with a soft smile, following him back out into the hall. On the stage – previously empty – she can see Puck tuning his guitar and feels her spider senses tingle. "Mike…"

Shoulders shrugging, he reaches up to brush an index finger softly down her cheek. It follows the path of her previous tear and Tina wonders whether her upset wasn't quite as subtle as Quinn had implied. "You were requested."

"By who?"

Peering over the heads of the crowd, Mike points his finger to where a tall woman with short blonde hair sits next to an older – but much smaller - woman with peppery curls and a baby pink cardigan over her narrow shoulders. The taller woman wears pink as well – though a tracksuit – and despite the smaller woman's face being characterised with Downs, it's obvious they are sisters. Tina feels her stomach flip at the sight of them.

"That's Sue Sylvester," she explains to Mike, pulling her hands away from his so she can fiddle with the buttons on her blouse. "She's the one who s-started this c-centre. When she was a k-kid she r-raised her sister and they never had a safe place to g-go for help or r-respite. She offered me this j-job when I was fresh out of college and t-trying to make it as an artist. When Kurt and I l-lived in the apartment with n-no heat and were one m-month's rent from having to m-move back to Lima."

"She obviously saw your potential," Mike says gently.

Nodding her head, Tina bites her lip hard. "She f-found the money in the budget for me to g-get my Masters in Art Therapy," she explains. "She's k-kind of the reason I d-do the work I do."

Pressing a kiss to her hair, she can just hear Mike's voice over the chatter. "She's asked for you to sing."

"I d-don't sing in public."

"So make it a Christmas miracle."

When he pulls away from her their eyes lock, and if her stomach was flipping before it's nothing to how it feels now. "I c-cant do it on my own."

He laughs, shrugging his shoulders. "I sing about as well as I paint."

She breaks into a broad smile then, ducking her chin to her chest and looking up at him from under her thick, dark lashes. "Go g-get Quinn," she tells him finally after a deep breath, coupled with a gentle push against his chest. "And you m-might get your Christmas miracle after all."

Five minutes later, Puck's fingers pick precisely at the strings of his guitar, as the two girls sit next to one another on high stools, their voices rising in practiced harmony as 'O Holy Night' fills the small hall. In one corner, Sue's arm wraps around her sister's shoulders and her eyes softly shut as she listens to the swelling music. In the other corner, Mike leans against the wall, Beth held in his arms and drinks in every note – rapt.

"Amazing," he breathes to no one in particular.

In response, Beth reaches up and smacks him in the cheek, as though he's been a fool for not realising all along.

xXx


	10. Chapter 10

To all of those of you who have been liking or commenting or leaving me messages, I just wanted to say a big thank you. We're really starting to get to the crux of the plot now (I know, 60,000 words in!), so I hope you're still enjoying and the story remains entertaining for you. All your support is really appreciated.

Thanks and love as always to my ML, and to Jenny for making my fantastic story art!

xXx

A week later Mike's scheduled to work, so New Year's Eve finds Tina squashed into Plato's with Kurt and Blaine and half the neighbourhood; an explosion of glitter and costumes and tequila. When the ball drops in Times Square and everyone starts cheering and kissing, she draws her lips into a pout and frowns. Kurt and Blaine break apart from their intense midnight make-out and Blaine can't hold back his laughter as Tina knocks back another shot at the bar. Lacing her up in his arms, he squeezes her body against his and peppers her cheeks in kisses. "Poor Soldier Girl!" he teases, even as she tries to bat him away with a wriggle and a hiss. "No midnight kiss for you."

"'S a stupid holiday," she grouses, but snuggles into Kurt's shoulder as he rescues her from his boyfriend's tickles, not caring how it knocks her cat ears askew.

Sparkly crown on his head, Kurt looks serious for a moment. "I have a brilliant idea," he announces to them, grabbing Tina's hand. "Come on."

xXx

The halls of the hospital are pretty busy – plenty of people vomiting into basins and buckets and one trying to be discrete by catching it in her handbag – but people still stop to take notice of the trio who wander confidently down the halls; a pink-cheeked black cat being frogmarched by a tunic-and-crown wearing king, and a pirate, complete with eye-patch and a silver-foil scabbard.

Mike's at the admit desk – beyond weary as he scrubs a name off of the whiteboard and adds a new patient – and he doesn't even notice their arrival until he hears Sam's amused, lilting laughter.

"Uh, Mike?" Sam's hand is on his shoulder and squeezing, and when Mike turns around, the smile on Sam's wide mouth is relaxed and sincere. "I think these ones might be for you."

Even though he's seen Tina naked more times than he can count, there's something about the sight of her in tight black jeans, knee high boots and a tank top she's almost spilling out of that makes Mike's nervous system sputter and a flush wash over his whole body. It's ridiculously hot, but coupled with the drawn on whiskers, crooked pigtails, a swishing tail and lop-sided cat's ears, it's painfully adorable as well.

Kurt's hands are on Tina's shoulders, pushing her forwards, and as she gets closer Mike can see the glassy look in her eyes. Clearly the trio are a few drinks down.

"She needs her midnight kiss," he explains, steering Tina towards her boyfriend and stopping her dead in front, stepping back and checking the modern watch that is incongruous with the rest of his outfit. "We know you're busy, but we figured you could spare thirty seconds? It's better late than not at all."

"Start the year as you mean to go on!" Blaine crows, leaning against the desk. His hair's dishevelled beneath his Captain's hat as he sneaks a sip out of his hip flask, and he wraps his arm around Kurt's waist, propping his chin on his shoulder. "We can't have Soldier Girl sad on New Year."

Mike can't stop the small smile that sneaks across his face as he scrubs at his cheek, partly with embarrassment but mostly with pleasure as she grins up at him.

"Hi," she greets, swaying her hips in a girlish, teasing arc, her hands clasped behind her back. There's glitter all over her cheeks and her bare shoulders shimmer and Mike wonders how much of her body is covered with the silvery hue.

"Hi," he answers back simply, setting his pen down on the desk. "Thirty seconds huh?"

She nods her head seriously. "I know you're working. And your work is important."

Reaching out, he picks a sequin from out of her hair, letting his finger brush down her cheek. "You're important too."

"I'm setting my watch!" Kurt announces from the side where he leans heavily into Blaine's touch. "3-2-1."

"Happy New Year," Tina says with a grin before rising up on her tiptoes and pressing her scarlet lips against his. Her arms entwine around his neck and his hands find her hips, holding her still and close. He breathes in the scent of her, tastes the tequila on her tongue and wishes like _hell _he didn't have to go back to work after this because dammit, this is the best start to a year he's ever had.

Her curves press against his chest and his thumbs swipe over her skin; her back arches just slightly so their hips touch and he curses in his head because he's sure he can feel her heart beating hard in tandem with his own.

Mike can hear Kurt's voice counting down and then the electronic beeping that he knows means his time is up, but he steals a couple extra seconds of her kisses before pulling away. Tina's chest heaves – her breasts rising and falling and straining against the constricting black material – and he knows he must look equally flushed because there are a couple wolf-whistles from behind him; when he looks over his shoulder Sam and fellow nurse Leanne start applauding.

Tina giggles as Mike rests his forehead against hers. "Happy New Year," he tells her in a soft voice.

"I hate to break up the party," a voice comes from behind, and Mike flushes bright pink as he pulls away from Tina, but Dr Bieste looks amused and understanding. "But we have sick people around here that need seeing to."

"Sorry Dr Bieste," Mike apologises, but swoops in to give Tina's lips one more quick peck. "I'll see you at home later?"

Tina nods her head, wrapping her arms around her body and unable to stop herself smiling. "I'll wait up."

Mike has to be practically led away by Sam and keeps stealing glances over his shoulder at where Tina stands and waves goodbye, her fingers wiggling and her lipstick smudged. Dr Bieste – reading over a chart – shakes her head and Tina feels almost embarrassed until the older woman reaches out and squeezes her shoulder, giving her a wink. "Have a good night Tina. I know he will now."

xXx

It's nearly 6am by the time Mike slips his key in the lock of the door and so he's surprised when he hears the tv playing low as he enters the apartment. What he finds makes him have to stifle a laugh because the kitchen table is covered in empty wine bottles and half-eaten bags of chips and the screen's showing something to do with sharks; Tina is sprawled across the sofa, her head pillowed in Kurt's lap and her whiskers still painted on.

Chin propped in his palm, Kurt raises an eyebrow at Mike. "She really wanted to wait up."

Unable to stop a smile quirking the corner of his lips, Mike moves one of the half-empty bottles on the table so he can set his backpack down. "I see that. Where's Blaine?"

"Bed," Kurt replies succinctly, taking a drink from the bottle of water at his side. "Snores like a sailor when he's drunk."

"Fitting."

Kurt laughs at that, nodding his head and smoothing some of Tina's hair back from her face as she lightly stirs. "She lasted til about five," Kurt explains – half with assurance, half apology – and crosses his legs at the ankle. "Apparently the excitement of Mega Shark vs Octopus wasn't enough to fight against all the tequila and wine."

Approaching the couch, Mike crouches down next to Tina, and with Kurt's help pulls her up enough that Kurt can slide out from beneath her. "Hey babe," Mike murmurs as Tina's eyelashes flutter – confused about where she is and why she's awake and why things are spinning around – and she barely opens her eyes enough to take in his face before wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his neck.

Slowly and carefully Mike stands up, holding Tina close with both arms as she wraps her legs around him. Kurt smiles with a shake of his head as he straightens up the couch. "She's going to be hell in the morning," he warns with a sing-song voice, snapping off the tv. The giant octopus blinks from view and the room falls into semi-darkness, broken by the light of the street lamp outside.

Mike sighs, but fondly. "I know." He shifts her slightly, going for a better hold, and even though she's basically asleep he presses a kiss against her hair.

Watching them curiously for a minute with an expression Mike can't read, Kurt folds his arms across his chest. "What is it you call her?" he asks finally, his voice soft. "The nickname?"

Thinking for a moment, Mike finally realises what Kurt is asking. "Spider Monkey?"

Nodding, Kurt ducks his chin to his chest and can't help but laugh, lightly. "Fitting," he echoes. Then smiling, he steps towards his shut bedroom door and lifts his hand in farewell. "Happy New Year, Mike."

Standing with Tina wrapped around his body, her hot breath against his neck, Mike nods his head in reply. "Happy New Year Kurt."

xXx

Matt's just pouring himself a cup of coffee – the first five minutes he's had since starting on shift – when he hears the door to the staff room creak open behind him and he curses as he hears his name being called. "Dr Rutherford?"

One of the med students – he forgets her name: Shauna or Sasha or Sheila – shifts from foot to foot, knowing her interruption won't be appreciated. Sighing, Matt takes a long sip of his drink – knowing it might be all he gets – before turning around to face her. "Yeah?"

The medical student looks down at her chart – reddish hair pulled into a tight ponytail, highlighting her oval face and narrow nose – and her voice sounds unsure in her reply but she speaks clearly; her voice high and almost lilting. "There's a woman in Curtain Four. She, uh, she's come in with a patient but has requested you."

"We don't take requests kid," Matt snorts, lifting up his coffee cup again and closing his eyes briefly as the bitter liquid washes over his tongue. "Tell her she'll have to wait for the next available doctor."

"I did," the student replies sharply, suddenly sounding more sure of herself, and Matt quirks an eyebrow in appreciation. He always likes the ones with spunk. "I told her, but she said to tell you, and I quote 'If you don't come out here right now Santana and I will be sure a rumour gets started that your penis is tiny and - "

"Okay okay! I get it, geez." Putting his cup down, he reaches out to take the chart from her. "Thanks…" he trails off, hoping her name will come to him, but he draws a blank and she obviously notices because she raises an eyebrow and cocks a hip as she passes the paperwork over.

"Sugar," she supplies crossing her arms over the chest of her scrubs, and Matt's eyes are caught by the bright pink hearts pinned in her ears.

Grinning, he mirrors her pose. "How could I forget that?" he asks, rubbing at his stubbly chin. "So sweet."

There's a beat, and then Sugar tips her head back and begins laughing uproariously. Leaning forward, she pats his shoulder. "Sorry," she tells him finally. "Not gonna happen."

xXx

When he arrives in Curtain Four Matt's irritated and kind of off his game. "I just got shut down cold by a 90lb med student Tina so this better be damn good - "

"Holy fuck," are the words he's met with, and they don't come from Tina, but instead from a skinny teenage girl sat up on the exam bed, a cold compress held against her rapidly bruising eye and blood dripping from her nose. Her bottom lip's split down the centre and she looks more than a little the worse for wear. "Do they seriously only hire hotties to work here Tee? Like, is that the rule? That they all have to be totally fuckable?"

Tina rolls her eyes but flashes a smile briefly at Matt as he enters, almost in apology for the blunt words. "Yeah Keish, that's the rule. D-doesn't matter about your grades as long as you fill a p-pair of scrubs nicely," she teases.

"I feel like I should take that as a compliment," Matt smiles, coming up besides Tina and touching her elbow fleetingly. "Who do we have here?"

"This is Keisha," Tina introduces. "One of m-my students. Had a bit of trouble at home this w-weekend."

Managing an eye roll despite the swelling is a pretty impressive feat, and Keisha pulls her legs up, crossing them on the bed in front of her. "I already _told _you, he wasn't aiming at me - I just got in the way."

It seems like an ongoing argument, because Tina cocks her head to one side – dark hair tumbling over her shoulder – and says words that sound like a recitation. "Keish, the fact he was aiming at _anyone _is the p-problem. You know that."

"I just wanted to see him."

The young girl's voice is thin and soft and she tucks her head down, even as the blood continues to drip down her chin. Her arms are wrapped around her body and she looks small and thin and fragile beneath all the bright colours, and so he's not surprised when Tina heaves a breath and sits down on the bed next to Keisha, close but not touching. "I know."

There's a pause, and the small curtained space is so wrapped in melancholy that Matt clears his throat before acting. "Let me take a look at that eye, hey?" Stepping up, he moves Keisha's hand gently from her face, trying not to notice how, as he approaches, her other hand shoots out to Tina's arm and squeezes tightly.

Tina moves to hold Keisha's hand, and Keisha starts chattering to keep her mind off the way Matt probes at her purpling skin. "So you're friends with Dr Mike?" she asks, swinging her purple sneaker-clad feet beneath her and trying to hide the wince as Matt hits a sore spot on the bridge of her nose.

"They're b-best friends," Tina supplies the answer as Matt's concentrating on his exam. She squeezes Keisha's fingers gently. "They w-went to medical school together."

Matt's touch moves again, and this time Keisha can't hide the flinch or the curse that spits from between her broken lips.

"Sorry," Matt pats her knee gently. "The nose isn't broken but your eye's going to be swollen up for a good couple days. I just want to put a couple stitches into your lip, okay?"

Keisha's eyes widen and she shakes her head. Her whole body seems to freeze. "No," she says, shuffling backwards on the bed. "No needles."

Matt's seen plenty of patients panic at the thought of needles, but he's never felt like calming them down has been one of his strengths. "Hey, it's going to be okay," he promises, holding his hands up in a placating gesture, but Keisha's face is pale and she's already slipping off the bed, not caring that her lips and chin are still crimson and her t-shirt stained.

"Keisha," he tries again, but startles when Keisha picks up a bedpan and throws it towards him. He just manages to duck out of the way and it goes clattering across the floor.

"No needles," she repeats like a mantra, and Matt knows she isn't even hearing him as she slowly backs up like a caged animal, twisting her body around and seeming to look for an escape route. Matt's just considering if he can outrun a terrified teenager when suddenly Tina's right next to Keisha and wrapping her fingers around the young girl's wrist. Instead of bolting at the touch – as Matt expected – all the nervous energy seems to leave Keisha and she slumps down to the floor, tears pooling in her eyes.

Tina's arms are around her in a heartbeat, holding her still, and safe. "It's okay Keish," she murmurs into the teenager's hair as Keisha's fingers grasp and hold at Tina's sweater so hard they turn white. "They're doctor's needles, okay? The good kind, nothing bad. And Matt's a great doctor, I p-promise. He's going to b-be as gentle as he c-can and I'm going to hold your hand through the whole thing okay?"

There's a long pause as Keisha sniffles and then finally nods. Coming round to the side of the bed, Matt helps the two women off the floor, his hand light on Keisha's elbow, and when she's back on the bed he gives her a wink. "Don't want a scar messing up that pretty smile."

Keisha screws her eyes shut tightly as Matt picks up the numbing injection and brings it towards her mouth, and holds onto Tina's hand so hard that Tina's pretty sure she's going to leave bruises. As the tingle spreads across her lip, Keisha cracks open an eyelid. "You promise you won't tell Aphasia about this?"

Leaning over, Tina bumps their shoulders together gently. "I swear."

xXx

Keisha's lying down on the bed – lips still numb and pretty exhausted from her earlier terror - as Matt drags Tina away from the curtained area. "You know we'll have to call her social worker?" he says gently, rubbing his hand over his shaved head as he replaces Keisha's chart in the rack. He can see Tina watching the young girl resting, her eyes not moving from the small bed.

"I know," she replies, nodding her head firmly. "N-not my first time at this p-particular rodeo."

"You don't have to stay," Matt offers gently. "I know this was your and Mike's day off together."

When Tina turns her head to look at him, a dark frown knots her features and her hand shoots out, punching him lightly in the shoulder. "You seriously think I'd leave her? You saw what happened b-before. The whole reason she c-called me today is because I m-make sure these girls know I'm free any t-time. That they're n-never alone. Mike needs to understand that's m-more important than a day off. We'll have another d-day."

"'Needs to understand?'" he quotes, curiously, but only lightly prompting.

Biting her lip, Tina shrugs her shoulders sharply. "He wasn't exactly happy I t-took of this morning. We kind of had other p-plans."

There's a snort of recognition, and Matt risks a casual glance sideways at her. "You've left him pouting at home?"

"He's a b-big boy, he'll live."

With a laugh, Matt reaches out, ruffling Tina's hair, who curses and ducks away from his touch. Instead he just rests a hand on her shoulder. "Did you know Mike's parents always wanted him to be a surgeon?" he asks, curiously.

With a shake of her head, Tina answers honestly. "No. Why didn't he?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Matt leans back against the desk. "He didn't want to. He knew he could do it – you know Mike could do anything he put his mind to – but…he wanted…he wanted to get to know people's faces. To feel like he was dealing with whole people, not just bits of them."

"Why are you t-telling me this?" Tina wonders, fiddling with the cuff of her jacket.

Squeezing her shoulder again, Matt's smile is soft and sincere. "Because I've just realised that the two of you are exactly alike in that way. And why you're the first one who's managed to coax him into a having a life." Reaching for her hand, he pulls it towards him, pressing a quick kiss to her palm. "As his friend, you'll never understand how grateful I am for that."

xXx

Matt walks Tina home; it's dark and he's a gentleman and besides, he argues, he knows Mike always keeps good beer in the fridge. When they reach the apartment Tina opens the door to find Mike pacing around the kitchen, and he stops at the sight of her.

"You're back," he notes, redundantly, raking a hand through his hair. She knows it's not the first time he's done it because his hair is sticking up at all different angles. His eyes trace her body – as though checking she's in one piece – and his gaze is intense and dark.

She nods her head, hair swishing around behind her. "You d-done being mad at me for going?"

It's a little awkward, with Matt standing just behind Tina, but Mike sticks his hands in the pockets of his sweats and shrugs his shoulders without answer. "She's okay?" he queries, the question half aimed at Tina concerning Keisha, but the way his eyes flick between Tina and Matt as well lets Matt know the question is partially for him. He answers with a gentle nod of his head as he goes to raid the fridge, but Tina's reply is soft as she pulls off her jacket.

"She always thinks he'll change," are her only words, heaved with a giant sigh as she hangs her jacket on the back of the door. "And I c-can't fault her that hope."

"Tee was brilliant," Matt pipes up as he pulls himself up on the kitchen counter, bottle of beer leaning against his bottom lip. "A total mama bear if ever I saw one. Kid would have trusted her with her life."

Mike can see the weariness painted stark on Tina's face and sighs deeply, letting some of his frustration go as he reaches his hand out to her. She goes to him without hesitation, relieved, and lets him wrap his arms around her even though he can still feel so much tension in her skin.

Rocking them gently as they stand together, the rhythm subtle and soothing, Mike rubs his cheek against her hair. "What do you need?" he asks, kissing her forehead.

Pulling back slightly, Tina tugs at the collar of her sweater. "A shower," she says, wrinkling her nose. "I think I g-got blood on me."

"Want company?"

It's teasing but tentative, and when Tina shakes her head Mike still feels a hold-over from their earlier harsh words. "I'll call you if I need help scrubbing?" she promises before disappearing off down the hall.

Mike sinks down into the chair at the kitchen table and takes a deep breath, accepting the beer that Matt tosses into his hands. He waits until he hears the click of the lock and the water start running before he speaks. "She got the call and took off without a second thought," Mike explains slowly. "Keisha was on the phone and crying and hysterical and I couldn't understand a word but Tina just told her it was going to be okay and to stay where she was. Grabbed her jacket and was out of here."

"You didn't offer to go with her?"

Throwing an eye-rolling glare at Matt, Mike folds his arms across his chest. "Who do you think I am? Of course I did."

"And?"

"She said she was okay on her own. She didn't know exactly what was going on with Keisha but she was pretty upset, so she'd rather not drag me into it. As though that made me feel better."

Matt takes a moment before speaking, and when he does his voice is gentle but pointed. "The kid was pretty shaken up."

Hand raking through his hair, Mike taps his beer bottle against his chin. "All the more reason I should have been with her. She just takes off like it doesn't matter, like the smart thing to do is just – head into a situation that she knows nothing about. Keisha could have been really hurt, she could have needed me."

"Mike - "

His voice is a brusque exhalation. "_Tina _could have got hurt. And she's so damn stubborn."

Matt holds his silence for a long moment, allowing Mike to pull himself together as he drinks his beer. Peeling the label with the edge of his thumb, Matt shrugs one shoulder. "She thinks you were mad because she ran out on your plans."

"That's ridiculous," Mike argues, leaning forward on his elbows. "You know how many times I've had to ditch her because my beeper's gone off?"

With a tug of his beer, Matt nods his head slowly. "I assume plenty."

"More than plenty. I mean, I do consider our time together important but…I understand that she needed to go. I just don't understand why she thinks she has to always do things on her own, always be the strong one." Shrugging his shoulders, Mike takes a long pull of his beer, staring up at the ceiling. "I'm not allowed to worry about her?"

Matt's laughter is a snort and he points to the pictures around the wall. In one – pride of place on the living room wall – Tina and Quinn stand, arms around each other and placards over their shoulders, clad only in underwear and combat boots. Tina's are black and lacy and Quinn's camouflage green. A burgeoning crowd looms behind them but they both grin; dirty and sweaty, young and brilliant. "I think she's been okay without you up 'til now," he points out.

"When I met her she had concussion and an almost fractured wrist."

"Point taken. But I'm just saying she's a tough girl. She's been used to making it on her own for a long time, and for what it's worth she was impressive today: made that kid feel 100% safe and loved. I still knew she could kick my ass though."

Laughing softly, Mike nods his head in acknowledgement. "She could." Then taking a long drink from his beer, he arches an eyebrow. "You really came over to make sure I know I'm a dick, didn't you?"

Hopping down from the counter, Matt shrugs his shoulders. "Just a friendly neighbourhood reminder." Chugging the dregs of his beer, he nods his head towards the door. "I'll let myself out. You go and see if Tina needs help drying off after her shower. And maybe one of these," he suggests, wiggling his now-empty bottle in Mike's direction before setting it in the sink. "We're still on tomorrow for pick-up with Sam?"

Standing up and stretching his arms over his head, Mike nods. "2 o'clock. Bring your A-game."

Matt unlatches the door with a snort. "See you later bro."

xXx

When he crawls into bed she's combing the tangles out of her hair and watches him in the mirror.

"You know you d-don't have to worry about me?" she tells him, carefully threading her fingers through her hair and winding it into a loose braid over her shoulder.

Laying his head on the pillow, he stares at her naked pale back and exhales, slowly.

"Do you know you don't have to always do it all on your own?"

xXx

Spring comes to New York bitterly, throwing three feet of snow on the ground and making everyone's breath come like dragons with mouths full of coal; puffed clouds of steam from between chattering lips. Mike's called into work so often – road accidents, broken limbs and multiple cases of hypothermia – that he and Tina go a week only seeing each other with sleep-heavy eyes, barely managing to collapse in each other's arms at the end of the day.

Valentine's Day passes with a hand-drawn card left on the nightstand as Mike attends to an ER filled with two suicide attempts and three drunk driving incidents while Tina braves to cold to protest against them cutting Public School funding in the city.

By the time the snow lifts and flowers tentatively begin pressing their heads through the icy ground Tina realises that six months have passed since Mike became her boyfriend. Waiting for a client meeting to begin, she considers texting him to say 'happy anniversary', but he's been at work since 5am and she's not sure he'll get the reference anyways. Instead, she just slides her phone back into her pocket and flips her sketchbook open to the newest logo designs. She'll try and remember to tell him later.


	11. Chapter 11

Hello all! I just wanted to leave a note to say I'm very sorry for the delay but work has been crazy and life has been kind of a mess and this has been sitting waiting for me to get it to my editor and sorted for weeks. There's plenty more written too, so don't worry – I haven't forgotten this fic and neither has it been abandoned – there is plenty more adorable AU future Tike to come!

Thanks as always to my ML for her patience and for not hitting me over the head every time she sees the phrase 'can't help but', and pretty Jenny for making my such pretty graphics. I love you ladies.

To all my fellow Tike fans, hold the faith.

xXx

"Hey, isn't that Tina?"

Sam's just pulling off his latex gloves with a snap and tossing them in the garbage as Santana scribbles notes in a chart and replaces it in the stack, but at his words and curious gaze she twists her head and looks down the hall. Sure enough, tucked behind the patients and families trickling in the sliding ER doors, is a familiar face.

Santana allows a grin to break across her lips as she waves and calls out. "Hey, Girl Chang, he's not on 'til 6, didn't he tell you?"

Only when Tina gets close to the desk does Santana notice the extreme pallor in her cheeks and the way she's twisting the end of her scarf in her hands. Her fingers clutch at the material so hard they're marble white. "I, uh, I actually, uh, w-wondered if I c-could t-talk to you?" she asks, and her cheeks flush; she bites her lip hard when she finishes as though forcing a barrier against the more-obvious-than-usual stutter.

Santana's been a nurse long enough to know when a situation needs immediate attention, and so instantly nods her head, reaching out and poking Sam in the shoulder. "Keep an eye on Mrs Wade for me? Tina and I are going to grab a coffee in the lounge."

"Sure thing," Sam agrees, and Santana is momentarily grateful for his easygoing nature because Tina looks about two seconds away from puking on her combat boots. It occurs to Santana that she hasn't seen the other woman look this way since their initial meeting and Tina's concussion; she's fleetingly tempted to check her for wounds.

Santana slides an arm around Tina's shoulders, the material of her black jacket soft under her grip. "Everything okay?" she asks gently, keeping her voice low and soothing; as soon as she'd gotten within an inch of Tina she'd realised how hard her friend was shaking. She pushes the door to the doctors' lounge open, and is relieved to find it empty.

Tina drops into one of the soft chairs immediately, her hands wringing and nail polish chipped; when she looks up at Santana her eyelashes are already wet with tears. She opens her mouth to speak but only manages a blunt exhalation across ruby red lips.

Easing into the seat next to her, Santana takes Tina's hand and squeezes gently. She can feel the worry rising up inside her. "Tina, are you okay? Did something happen? Do you need me to call Mike?"

Tina shakes her head vehemently and licks her lips, grasping Santana's hand tightly. Squeezing her eyes shut, she takes a long, slow breath. When she speaks it's barely a whisper.

"I think I'm p-pregnant."

xXx

Santana pulls off the tourniquet with a snap and they both watch the small vial fill up with dark crimson blood. "You did a test at home?"

Tina nods, wincing only slightly as Santana pulls out the needle and places a cotton ball in the crook of her elbow. "I b-bought one at the store when I r-realised I w-was late," she admits, bending her arm up towards her body to stop the bleeding. "And it l-looked like it was p-positive but the l-line was really faint and I was g-going to get another one b-but then I found m-myself here." She shrugs her shoulders. "Thank you for d-doing this."

Scribbling on the side of the vial, Santana shrugs off the compliment. "It's no trouble," she tells her, setting the sample aside. "Zizes owes me one up in the lab, so we'll get this turned around as quick as we can for you, okay?"

Tina looks relieved – and slightly less nauseated – and as Santana returns her pen to her pocket she can't keep herself from asking, "I take it you haven't told Mike?"

The way Tina's face pales again is answer enough, but her vehement headshake underlines it. "N-no point until I know," she insists, wrapping her arms around her midriff. Then a thought seems to hit her and she looks up at Santana, stricken. "You w-won't tell him will you?"

"Confidentiality stretches to nurses too," she assures Tina, rubbing her shoulder fleetingly. "All I'm saying is…whichever way this comes out – positive or negative – you might want someone to talk to. And he seems like kind of the obvious choice given as how, you know, he's kind of involved. Just think about it, okay?"

Picking up her jacket and laying it over her knees, Tina allows herself a small, almost imperceptible nod, "Okay." She doesn't make eye contact.

Tugging on her arm, Santana pulls Tina off the bed and loops their arms together. "Come on," she orders. "We'll take this upstairs and then get you a de-caff Americano in the cafeteria. My treat."

xXx

Lauren Zizes is clearly not a woman to be messed with and rules the Phlebotomy Lab with an iron fist; at their arrival she looks down at Santana and pushes her glasses up her nose with a pointed frown.

"Pretty busy here Lopez," she tells the smaller woman, crossing her arms over her buxom chest, name label swinging on the stiff material of her short white coat. "What's in it for me?"

Tina cowers slightly but Santana just leans against the wall, holding her hand out in front of her and casually checking her nails, as it the outcome of the conversation is of little consequence. She shrugs one shoulder, "What do you want?"

Zizes thinks for a moment and answers with a small wry smile as though she's been looking for a willing victim all day: a spider waiting for a fly to fall into her trap. "A Cadbury's creme egg, an orange soda, and a night out with the cup of hot chocolate who usually follows you around like a puppy."

Santana considers the terms for a moment, but then stands up straight and holds out the sample. "I'll see what I can do."

Lauren takes the vial carefully and reads the scrawl on the side. "Nice doing business with you Lopez."

They're halfway down the hall before Tina risks grabbing Santana's arm. Her dark red nails leave crescents in tan skin. "D-did you really just p-pimp Matt out for me?" she squeaks but is met with only the sound of Santana's raucous laughter.

Smiling fondly, Santana just shakes her head. "Are you kidding? They hook up about every other month; she just likes to pretend he's for bargaining. I'm like a dirty go-between."

Despite everything, Tina laughs.

xXx

The wait is agonising. The cafeteria is busy and seems particularly noisy and the coffee is lukewarm and bitter; Tina realises after a moment of drinking it that she didn't even order decaf. God, what if the test is positive and she _is _pregnant and she can't even remember to order a stupid decaf coffee?

Santana's taken an early lunch and so sits across from her, keeping up the chatter, braving forkfuls an interesting-looking pasta dish between unheard comments. Tina's shredding a napkin into tiny pieces when Santana's words finally break through her haze.

"You honestly never thought about having kids with him?"

It's enough to make Tina start, almost knocking her coffee cup over and causing the liquid to slosh on her hand. She wipes it off with the remains of the shredded napkin. "W-what?"

Setting her fork down on the side of her tray, Santana raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow and steeples her fingers. "I'm just saying. Lord only knows the two of you would have the most unfairly gorgeous kids. You're smoking hot, Chang's a demi-god…you've really never thought about it?"

Absentmindedly tugging at a braid, Tina shrugs her shoulders. "We've only b-been together six m-months," she murmurs by way of an explanation, but all it does is make Santana bark a laugh.

"Please, I'd been on three dates with Brittany when I started imagining our kids." Picking up her bottle of water she takes a long sip, seemingly gathering her thoughts before she speaks again. "Benefit of being a lesbian? I don't have to worry about getting knocked up. Downside of being a lesbian? Even if I wanted to, I couldn't have Brit's baby. And she can't have mine."

The words ring around Tina's head and she's just figuring out how to answer when Santana pressing on cuts off any attempt at words. Or apologies. "Look, time has nothing to do with whether you can imagine yourself having kids with Mike. I mean, I've seen you with that goddaughter of yours and I know how you talk about those girls you work with. You're a kid person. And Mike…look, you should see him with the kids that come in here. He'll make stupid faces at them to make them laugh. Or stay in their room way after his shift just to keep them calm or so their parents can go get a coffee. He carries smiley face stickers in his pockets for God's sake. I honestly don't know whether he even realises it, but Mike's as much of a kid person as you are, and today, one way or another, he probably needs to realise that."

There's a silence while Tina stares at her, wide open eyes, open-mouthed. She's about to say something – not sure whether she's supposed to be agreeing, or arguing, or just whimpering – when Santana's pager buzzes at her belt.

Looking down at the display, she states simply, "Zizes." Then standing up from her seat, she holds out her hand to the smaller woman who looks suddenly ten shades paler. "You ready?"

Her only answer is a gulp and a nod.

XxX

When Mike gets done with work it's late. Coming in the door, he sets his backpack down on the kitchen table and toes off his shoes, hanging his jacket over one of the chairs. He knows Kurt's away with work but he still tiptoes through the living room and down the hallway because it's close to 4am and Tina's likely been asleep for hours.

Which is why he's surprised when he enters the bedroom to find her laying stock-still in the middle of her bed, her hands folded over her midriff and her eyes wide open and fixed on the ceiling. She's in her pyjamas – an old Dalton t-shirt of Blaine's and a pair of short shorts that make her legs look pale and unfathomably long – but she doesn't look like she's slept a wink.

"Tina?"

His presence seems to startle her; she sits up with a jolt and her hair tumbles over her shoulders and a blush blossoms over her skin with haste. "Hey," she greets breathlessly, tugging at the hem of her t-shirt and straightening herself, as though she's just been caught doing something she shouldn't. "You f-finished early?"

Unbuttoning his shirt, he tosses it in the laundry hamper at the side of the room. "No, it's after four," he informs her, and then seeing the look of surprise on her face – and the way she twists her head towards her alarm clock as though to confirm his words – he can't stop the question falling from his lips. "Are you okay?"

First she nods, then she shakes her head, and then exhaling loudly, she buries her face in her hands.

His stomach lurches and it's enough to have him throwing himself bodily onto the bed next to her, reaching for her wrists, gently prising them away from her face. He's surprised when he moves them that her eyes are dry. She looks troubled, but he expected tears to be falling down her cheeks. "What happened?"

There's a moment of silence, and then she takes a deep breath, reaching up and pushing her hair back from her face. Slowly she turns to him and looks him in the eye. "When I g-got up today I r-realised I was three d-days late for my period."

She knows it's nowhere near what he was expecting to hear, and his eyes widen almost comically before he sputters, "You think you're pregnant?"

If his reaction to her first admission was comical, his reaction to her second is anything but.

"No. I'm n-not. I w-went to the hospital and had Santana ch-check for me."

"What?"

They're both completely still for a moment, as though frozen, but Mike's the one that breaks it first. Standing up, he rakes his hands through his hair, his t-shirt rising up to show a sliver of skin, but Tina can't be distracted when his words come out so hotly. "You told Santana before you told me?"

"I d-didn't want to t-talk to someone I didn't know."

"And somehow you decided to talk to Santana instead of – I don't know – calling me?"

"Mike - "

"No, seriously, like I'm just some guy, like you being pregnant or not wouldn't have mattered to me?"

Crossing her legs, Tina smoothes her hand over the top of their comforter. "I w-wanted to find out b-before I bothered you," she explains simply. "B-believe it or n-not I don't like it when you w-worry about me."

The exhausted puff of laughter that breaks from Mike's lips speaks volumes. "As if I couldn't already tell that."

Tina fists the material between her fingers. "What's that supposed to m-mean?"

Turning away from her, he fiddles with some of the paintbrushes on her desk, turning the smooth wood between his fingers and avoiding her eyes. "You always want to do things on your own. It's like you don't trust me. Like you don't expect me to have your back."

"Of c-course I trust you."

"Well you don't act like it sometimes. Going off on protests that you _know _are going to end badly, or with the girls - " He turns around, facing her, rubbing the side of his face, obviously frustrated. "Tina, you walk into situations on your own that could be _so _dangerous. And it's not like you don't know it, but you do it anyways!"

"It's my job Mike," Tina answers succinctly, her jaw tense and her words clipped.

"Not to do it alone."

Sighing sharply, Tina gets up from the bed, mirroring his tense stance against her dresser. "Yes, Mike, sometimes to d-do it alone." Tugging at the hem of her shirt, she points her finger at him. "Look, m-maybe it's you who needs to learn to trust me. I've b-been doing this job way longer than I've known you. I'm n-not a little girl in need of your protection."

There's a long beat while Mike rubs his hands over his face and sighs before stepping up towards her; he reaches out and his touch feathers her elbow. "Believe me, I _never_ thought you were a little girl," he laughs, tiredly, before growing serious again. "Tina…do you understand how I would feel if something happened to you?" He grips her arm gently. "The last thing I want is to make you less independent, that's one of the things that I'm crazy about, that I love about you. But…but you shut me out so much sometimes I don't even know what you're thinking."

"Mike, I love you."

"So trust me."

Tina bites her lip then; hard enough to leave teeth marks on her chapped pink skin. "You want me to open up? Fine. What d-do you want?"

Sweeping his thumb over her bicep, his brows knot into a frown. "What do you mean?"

Reaching up, she takes his hand from her arm and moves it so it's pressed flat and hard against her stomach. "I t-told you I thought I was pregnant and all you said is you're m-mad I didn't tell you? You d-didn't seem pleased that we m-might be or sad that we aren't or scared either way…so I don't understand…what do you w-want from me? From this?"

Breaking eye contact, he goes to turn away, "Tina - " but she grabs his wrist and holds him still.

"We've been t-together six months Mike. You've n-never thought about what's n-next?"

Letting his chin drop to his chest, his body half turned away from her, he shrugs his shoulders. "I like what we have."

Her grip on his wrist slackens. "And that's _all _you w-want?"

There's a long pause, and then slowly, he shrugs again.

Moving her hands fully from his wrist, Tina wraps her arms about herself – a picture of defensiveness – and nods her head. "I see."

"Tina…"

"No," she interrupts, holding up a hand. Then taking a deep breath, she fixes her eyes on him. "Look, I know I'm hard to d-deal with. That I d-don't open up about things and I don't trust people that easily b-but…I have been working _so _hard with you. You have n-no idea Mike. How d-difficult that is. And I've been d-doing it because I thought we had something. Something that was g-going somewhere."

Mike's pretty much stunned into silence. He drops down on the edge of the bed, head in his hands.

"I've never done all this Tina. This future stuff."

"You think I have?"

Hands fisted in his hair, Mike's voice is barely audible. "I don't know how to want things. I wanted to be a dancer and I had to give that up and I'm a doctor now and I'm damn good at it."

"I know."

"I'm not good at making my own decisions."

She laughs then, but it's hollow and sad and exhausted; she doesn't move from her place in front of the dresser. "You're thirty years old Mike, at some p-point you're just going to have to try."

There's a long, long pause. Seconds stretch into minutes and Tina finds herself aware of the birds beginning to chirp outside of the window. Finally, the silence breaks when Mike raises his head. "What do we do now?"

The sheer sadness in his voice is enough to have her moving, and she slowly sinks down onto the mattress next to him. Their bodies press together, side-to-side. "I think m-maybe we have some thinking to do. Some d-decisions to make. Alone."

Reaching out, he laces their fingers together. "So that's it?"

Squeezing his hand, she cocks her head to the side, raising one shoulder in a half shrug. "For now. Until we _b-both _know what we want."

His voice, when he speaks his next words, wavers more than either one will ever admit. "Should I go?"

There's a lump in Tina's throat like someone's just tried to shove a whole apple down there, and she has to swallow hard to get her words out. "I think so. Yes. Please." She can feel tears burning at the back of her nose and throat and she squeezes her eyes shut to stop them escaping between her lashes.

She doesn't open her eyes, but can feel when he unwinds his hand from hers and stands up. "Okay," he agrees, his voice hoarse and weary. "Will…will you call me? Before you go to sleep?"

Sniffling hard, Tina manages a small nod and then opens her eyes. "And g-get a cab home, okay? So I know you're s-safe?"

"I'll collar one downstairs."

Silence pervades for a while, and then Mike's down on his knees in front of her, her cheeks cupped in his hands. Leaning in, he presses a kiss – a long, hot, desperate kiss – against her lips. "I'm sorry," he murmurs into her skin once he's broken away.

"So am I."

She waits until he leaves the room and she hears the click of his key in the lock before she finally allows the tears to fall.

xXx

"Tina? You've been staring at that slice of pizza for the past five minutes… Everything okay?"

From the other side of the sofa, Kurt leans over a takes a sip of his soda, looking at her with a crinkled brow. He's in comfortable jeans and a sweater and they've got a stack of dvds lined up waiting for them, but when Tina heaves a sigh and finally abandons her pizza, putting the plate on the floor and scooting it away with her toe, he has a sneaking suspicion they won't be watching any of them.

"I'm f-fine," she manages, but between her down-turned lips and her thin reedy voice it's not exactly convincing.

Reaching out, he pokes her in the side, ignoring how she squeaks and tries to wriggle away from his touch. "You've been weird since I got back," he admits. "Didn't you like the scarf?"

Somehow between meetings and fashions shows and practicing his college-level French on un-suspecting Parisians, Kurt had brought her the most beautiful silk scarf. Strikingly scarlet and elegant, she frowns at even the very idea that she couldn't love it. "Are you k-kidding?" she argues. "You know it's b-beautiful."

Stretching out, he props his feet on the coffee table, crossing his legs at the ankle. "That's because I have flawless taste."

Smiling, briefly, she agrees. "N-naturally."

Tipping his head so it rests on the back of the couch, Kurt studies her for a long beat before saying gently, "Look, Tina, this is me. What aren't you telling me?"

Curling her legs up towards her body, Tina rests her chin on her knees, wrapping her arms around her shins. Then she takes a deep breath. "Three d-days ago I thought I was pregnant."

"_What!" _

"I d-didn't tell Mike. I t-told his friend Santana so she could help me do a test, only I wasn't pregnant and m-me and Mike ended up in this b-big fight and he doesn't even know w-what he wants." She stops for a moment, gulping hard. "He d-doesn't know what he wants so I told him he needs to go away and take some t-time before we decide if we should still be together."

The words come out in a rush and when she's finished it's like she deflates. Collapsing back into the cushions, she unwinds enough to rub her eyes with the back of her wrist; her face reads weariness and exhaustion.

Kurt, on the other hand, sits stock still for a moment before pulling himself upright. "So let me get this straight."

"Okay."

"Three days ago you thought you were pregnant." His voice is even and calm, like he's simply reciting facts.

"Yes."

"And you didn't tell Mike."

"Right."

Kurt's been so eerily composed up to this point that she startles when he flings his hands in the air, his voice shocked and reprimanding. "And you didn't call _me?"_

Luckily, Tina has known Kurt far too long to allow him to brow beat her. Instead, she too pulls herself upright, leaning over and hitting him in the chest with a cushion. "You were in P-paris! I was in crisis!" she argues, letting the pillow fall into his lap. "The two were not exactly compatible!"

They tussle for a moment until they basically end up in a hug, Kurt's arms wrapped around Tina's shoulders and her pressed against his chest. "But you're _not_ pregnant?" he asks in a gentle voice.

There's a pause and then, "No."

"Tina…" His voice is leading, prompting, and she tries to ignore the feeling that he can read her thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"Did you want to be?"

No one's asked that question before now, and faced with it, Tina realises she has no idea what the answer is. Instead of replying, she just buries her face further into Kurt's sweater, wiggling her shoulders in some estimation of a shrug.

Knowing that is all the response he's going to get, Kurt rubs his hand up and down Tina's cotton-clad back. "Okay, new question. Where's Mike?"

It's a fair question, and deserves a proper answer because she's spent the last six months practically forcing the two men to be friends, and so she know she can't side-step this one. Taking a deep breath, she pulls back from Kurt's embrace and tugs at a loose strand of her hair. "I t-told him not to come b-back until he can m-make a decision about what he wants."

Kurt's face is stunned. He goldfishes a couple times before confessing, "I just assumed he was working lates."

"No."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

Reaching out – and being able to read the pain so clearly on her face – Kurt wraps a hand around Tina's. "You want me to get the wine?"

The expression that washes over her face is one of sheer relief. "Yes please."

xXx

Mike's rung the doorbell three times before he hears cursing and footsteps and is seriously regretting his decision to come across town. He's just about to turn tail and head back to his apartment when the door is flung open and he's met with Matt's broad chest – Matt's _naked _broad chest – and a glare.

"This better be good. I was in the middle of getting _Zized_." Off of Mike's sceptical expression, Matt just waves his hand. "You don't need to know. Just trust me. And seriously, dude, what the hell? You look like a kid who lost his candy and then got punched in the face."

Matt's been working opposite shifts to Mike and this is the first time they've seen each other face to face for a week. "Tina thought she was pregnant and told Santana and we got in a fight and she told me to leave." Mike scuffs the toe of his sneaker against the concrete, "I hate my apartment. Can I stay here tonight?"

Mike knows he owes Matt majorly when within ten minutes he's in the apartment and on the couch, beer in hand; after some giggling and thudding from the bedroom that he really didn't need to hear, he and Matt are alone.

"I'm sorry to spoil your night," Mike murmurs, voice low and heavy. His back is bent like a question mark, elbows resting on his knees as he picks at the beer's label with his thumb.

Throwing himself down in the black leather armchair, Matt raises an eyebrow. "Dude, you know bros come first," he dismisses with a wave of his hand. "Now seriously, start at the beginning. Tina really thought she was knocked up?"

Mike nods, glumly.

"But she's not."

Mike shakes his head.

Taking a long tug of his beer, Matt taps the bottle against his chin. "So what did you fight about?"

Frowning at his beer – as though it has wronged him – Mike clips his reply. "She told Santana instead of me."

"About the kid thing?"

"Yeah."

Standing up and wandering to the kitchen, Matt grabs a bag of pretzels, tossing them towards Mike. "So what?" he replies, grabbing his own bag of chips and flopping back in the chair. "Chicks talk to other chicks."

Mike's hand tenses around the bottle, his knuckles turning white. "She didn't _trust _me Matt."

Curious, Matt raises an eyebrow. "Did she tell you that?"

"No, she said she loves me."

Matt scoffs a laugh, throwing a potato chip at Mike's head. It bounces off his forehead and onto the floor. "Then – no offence bro – you're an idiot."

Unable to stop himself joining in the laughter – bitter humour winning in the moment over melancholy – Mike leans his head back on the couch. "Gee thanks."

Opening his second beer with a twist and a hiss, Matt uses it to punctuate his words. "Look, I get that Tina's all 'independent woman' and all that, but she goes home to you every day dude. And believe me – as a guy who's been with a _lot _of different girls – sometimes, with some women, that's enough to make you a very lucky bastard."

"Matt…" Mike starts, heaving a sigh. "With Tina…it's like there are so many hidden sides that I don't know."

"And she's offering you the chance to spend the rest of your life getting to find them out?"

"I guess?"

"Mike, seriously. You have been happier this half a year then I've seen you in all the time I've known you. And I know that it's your instinct to protect people and care about them, it's what makes you a damn good doctor."

"Thanks."

"No problem. Doctor Chang is a great guy and you've really made sure he's been able to shine." Taking a breath, Matt fixes Mike with a steady and unrelenting gaze. "But _Mike_? The guy who's just a guy? What's he been doing while the doctor's been busy?"

It's a pointed enough question that it has Mike squirming in his seat. "Matt - "

"I'm serious. I know you're pissed about how it went down but for real – if Tina had been pregnant – like, Mommy, Daddy and baby makes three, how would you have felt? Like, really felt?"

There's a long silent pause in the room, then: "…Terrified. Overwhelmed. Excited."

Xxx

There is one empty bottle of wine on the coffee table and they're well into their second when Kurt reaches out and tugs at Tina's hand to gain her attention.

"You know I used to hate your job. Still do sometimes."

It's news to her, and she coughs as she takes a sip of wine; she can feel her eyebrows scrunch into a frown. "What?"

"Tina…" Kurt laughs softly, wrapping his hand around her wrist. "You terrify me every time you disappear in the middle of the night after a sobbing phone call, or you work with a violent case. You think I don't have nightmares about the people who beat their daughters coming after you? Hurting you?" He looks at her pointedly, and it doesn't go unnoticed that his thumb rubs her wrist in the same place surgical scars mar his own.

She avoids his eyes. "Kurt - "

"No, I of _all _people know how independent you are and why. I get it. But you think I don't completely understand why Mike worries about you? He loves you Tina. Like, _love _loves you. Like, can't imagine what he'd do if something happened to you – same as me." Off of her quirked eyebrow he laughs, and squeezes her hand. "Okay, not the _same _as me, but you know what I mean. We both love you Tina."

"But you _trust_ me," she exhales, frustrated. "And you believe that I trust you."

Rolling his eyes, Kurt shoves her lightly in the shoulder. "_Mike_ trusts you. He wouldn't have gone through that first awful lunch with me and Blaine or meeting all your friends or letting you tie him to the bedstead if he didn't trust you." Tina blushes furiously at his words, laughter burbling between her lips as she covers her eyes with her hand in embarrassment, but then Kurt's voice is soft again and she feels his eyes on her, so she peeks out from between her fingers. "Worrying about you has _nothing _to do with not trusting you," he tells her gently. "And as for me believing that you trust me? Well that's because I've had years of practice reading the Cohen-Chang code. Mike's still learning. And Tina - " his voice is firm and his eyebrows raised in a 'no-arguments' expression. "He's been working damn hard. So maybe you need to do what you told me to do when you first got together…trust that he's not like other guys. Trust that you can tell him things and open up and…he isn't going to hurt you."

xXx

The six-pack of beer is long gone and ice cubes rattle around the bottom of a half-empty glass of good bourbon poured from a bottle that Matt had dusted off from inside the liquor cabinet. Mike's stretched out along the sofa, feet dangling off the end and one arm thrown over his eyes.

"I've known you longer than anyone else in this city," Matt begins to pontificate, letting the smoky liquid pass over his lips and across his tongue; it makes him loquacious and pondering and Mike peeks out from under the crook of his elbow. "When we met I knew you were the kind of guy that had always just done exactly as he'd been told. Never questioned it. Never bucked authority. Never rebelled just for the sake of rebelling."

Snorting, Mike pulls himself upright so he can take a sip of his own drink. "We can't all spend our summer vacations smoking weed and graffitiing water towers Matt."

"You forgot the underage drinking and joy riding."

"My mistake."

"But my point," Matt insists, raising his voice and ignoring Mike's eye-roll, "is that the first time I _ever _saw you do something that hadn't been planned out for you was when you decided to become an ER stud instead of a Slicer. First time I _ever _felt like that was something that you did to make _yourself_ happy."

Lying back down, Mike stares at the ceiling and the patterns of light on the off-white paint. "So? And? Therefore?"

"My point is, Chang my man, sometimes the best decisions we make are the ones that seem a little crazy. Or fucking terrifying. Just because other people might raise a few eyebrows doesn't mean you shouldn't go for it. Grow a pair. Be a man."

Laughter bubbles up from Mike's throat, but when it spills from his lips it's half cough, half bourbon-flavoured hiccup. "Not that simple."

Stretching out, Matt kicks Mike's leg, hard. Mike yelps about to curse but when he catches his friend's eye, Matt looks uncharacteristically serious. "You gotta make it that simple bro. You gotta decide one simple question – do you want Tina in your life or not? If decide you don't then I'm sure Dr Chang is going to be a success. Chief Resident. Head of the ER one day for sure. But Mike's gonna be a miserable bastard."

"And if I decide I do want Tina in my life?"

"Then you get the hell off of my couch and go and get her. And hope you haven't fucked this up beyond saving."

xXx


	12. Chapter 12

To my partners in crime, Jenny (happy birthday poppet!) and Kaitlyn, and all the other wonderful people who keep reading, dropping me messages, comments or likes. I appreciate it so much, you can't even know. Thank you all so much.

xXx

A week passes.

At their lunch date, Quinn eyes Tina with concern as she jiggles a fussy Beth on her hip, feeding her cut up bites of her own sandwich to keep the little girl pacified. "Seriously Tina," she admonishes, biting into a slice of pickle with a frown. "Anyone within fifty feet of you can see you're miserable. Why don't you just call him? Tell him you want to talk about this?"

Picking at her sandwich, Tina pushes a cherry tomato around on her plate. "We said we wouldn't t-talk until we'd b-both decided what we want," she recites with a heavy sigh.

"You both said or _you _said?"

Pushing her hair back from her face, Tina stares down at her plate. "I said…but I d-didn't think it would take him so long." She feels the burn in the back of her throat and tries to ignore the feeling, taking a long drink of her water to quell the heat. "I m-might have to face he's not coming b-back."

Quinn's expression is one of trepidation, but she schools it quickly when Tina looks up at her. Pulling herself together, she hands Beth over to Tina who takes her easily; the little girl sits on her lap and taking the bites of food that Tina offers with glee. "Look," Quinn begins, folding her hands in front of her on the table, her pose officious. "Maybe you're right. But if he decides that he doesn't want a future with you then _all that means _is that he wasn't the right one for you, okay? You didn't do anything wrong."

"I scared him off," Tina murmurs into Beth's curls, her lips down-turned as the little girl plays patty-cake on her upturned palm. "I rushed him into things he w-wasn't ready for."

"By asking if he thought the two of you had a future together?" Quinn scoffs. "Tina, you're allowed to ask those questions. You're not in high school any more. It wasn't like you asked him to get down on one knee and propose – all you wanted to know was if you both thought the relationship was going in the same direction. That's okay."

Sighing deeply, Tina rests her forehead against Beth's crown. "I hate feeling this p-pathetic."

"You're not pathetic."

"I've spent a w-week sitting around waiting for him to c-call. I've _n-never _been like this."

When she answers Quinn's voice is quiet but pointed. "You've never been in love like this."

Tina sniffs, and it's only when Beth reaches up and pats her cheek ("Nee?") that she realises tears have started slipping from between her lashes. "Oh God," she curses, picking up her napkin and pressing it against her eyes, leaving smears of mascara against the cheap paper. "G-getting over him is going to suck."

Reaching over the table, Quinn squeezes Tina's hand tightly. "You might not have to."

"It's been over a week. That speaks p-pretty loudly."

Sighing, Quinn nods in acknowledgement. A week of no contact seems to speak pretty loud and she laces their fingers together. "Whatever happens, I'll be here, okay? You'll get through this. "

Beth – who up to this point has been sitting very quietly, seemingly following the conversation with great interest – chooses this point to interrupt with her own stream of babble; Tina takes it as agreement and presses a kiss to the top of her head. "Thank you."

For the rest of lunch they talk about welfare reform and neither one of them mention the way Tina double takes every time a dark-haired man enters the café, or the fact that every time it's not him a little light in her eyes seems to dim.

When Tina goes to the bathroom before they leave Quinn can't stop herself from squeezing her eyes tightly shut, praying hard that Mike won't break Tina's heart.

xXx

Tina says goodbye to Quinn and Beth on the corner by the subway stop, and she wanders back to her apartment slowly. She stops to check the mailbox and perks up slightly to find a postcard from her parents wedged in between the gas bill and a takeout menu from the new Italian place down the street. The message is entirely in Korean (because – as her mother writes in the note – they've finally arrived in Seoul) and it takes her a moment of studying it to understand what is says. Her spoken Korean has always been better than her character work. She's staring at a particularly unfamiliar word, key jingling in hand and ready to slip in the door when she's startled by the sound of a voice.

"Tina?"

Envelopes go scattering to the ground and she curses, a hand flying to her chest in almost Victorian shock. Mike sits on the floor in front of her apartment door, long legs stretched out in front of him and an amused smile gracing his otherwise tired-looking face. "Sorry." Pulling himself up, he reaches for a couple of the scattered bills, handing them back to Tina, who takes them with a look of surprise on her pale face. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Licking her lips, Tina clutches the mail tightly to her chest. "What are you d-doing here?"

It's not the warm welcoming he was hoping for; his hands slide into his jeans pockets and he scuffs the toe of his sneaker against the concrete floor. "I knew you had lunch with Quinn today and well…you told me to come back when I made some decisions."

She doesn't move to open the door; instead she just stares at him, rocking on her heels. "It t-took you a week?"

Breathing a small laugh, Mike shakes his head, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. "It took me about twelve hours."

"Then why - "

"Making my decision took me about twelve hours. Being man enough to come and talk to you…that took a little longer. And then Dr Washington got chickenpox and everyone had to take on the extra shifts and yeah…" he trails off, shrugging his shoulders. "I should have come sooner."

Nodding her head, Tina bites her bottom lip, hard. "Yeah, you should have."

Mike can feel the defensiveness coming off her in waves; it's almost palpable. "Look, Tina, can we talk?"

"We're t-talking now."

Running his fingers through his hair, Mike sighs heavily. "As much as I like your neighbours this isn't really a conversation I want to have in a hallway. Can I come in, please?"

There's a long pause, and then Tina nods her head carefully and comes around Mike to slide her key in the door. Her arm brushes against his and it's enough to make her start; she curses at the tell-tale hotness of a blush spreading over her cheeks but holds her head high. Setting her purse down on the kitchen table, she turns where he loiters by the sink. "If you've c-come to end things, d-do it fast."

Her directness seems to startle him; he goldfishes for a couple moments and his face pales. When he gets his voice back, his words are soft. "I didn't actually."

"Mike," she starts and _dammit _she is not going to let herself cry already. She leans heavily against the counter top. "I can't k-keep just going like we are. I love you but there are things I w-want in my life and I'm n-not getting any younger, okay?"

"Tina - "

"No, just listen." She wraps her arms around her body, fingers clutching tightly at her upper arms - hard enough to leave nail marks. "I – I _d-deserve _to be happy, okay? It's t-taken me a really long time to realise that I do because I kind of thought maybe I didn't b-but I _deserve _it and God, Mike, I w-want to be happy _with you_ but if we want different things then I can't m-make myself just stick around until that tears us apart. I c-can't. And I won't."

From across the kitchen, he nods his head. "I wouldn't want you to."

She squeezes her eyes shut, ignoring the wetness her lashes leave on her cheeks. "Is that all?"

There's a pause and then Mike moves – slowly – like he's trying not to startle her. Two feet away, he sinks into one of the empty kitchen chairs and rests his elbows on his knees. "I've spent this week thinking about myself more than I have in a really long time. About what I want. What kind of person I want to be."

Sniffling, Tina wipes her eyes with the back of her wrist. "Okay?"

"I, uh… I really thought my life was going to be about being a doctor. That it was, you know, my whole identity. My role in the world. Being Doctor Chang." He winds his fingers together, nervously steepling them; his eyes are fixed on his knuckles and nails to avoid looking her in the eye. "But maybe…maybe I deserve more than that too." Slowly, he lifts his head up, and when his eyes meet Tina's there's still something hesitant and sceptical in her gaze. He licks his lips. "I like…I like being 'Mike' with you. I like dancing to corny Nat King Cole songs in our pyjamas and watching Jeopardy and finding paintbrushes in the laundry hamper when I go looking for socks. I like listening to you sing in the shower and having to stop every other block when we walk places so you can take a picture of the light on different buildings. And I…I don't want to lose those things."

"I d-don't either," Tina admits after a pause, taking a tiny step closer towards him. "I missed talking to you Mike. You're…you're who I t-tell about my day and then you just weren't there…"

Heart beating hard in his ribs, he reaches for her hand and is painfully relieved when she doesn't pull away. "I'm sorry."

Her fingers tighten in his. "I've b-been sitting around, staring at my phone, w-waiting for that stupid Bowie song you set as your ringtone to play."

He laughs, bringing her hand to his lips, pressing kisses against her fingertips. "_Just Dance _is a great song."

She shakes her head, another step closer, her eyes fluttering briefly shut at the contact. "I w-want to hear your voice before I go to sleep. I know that's silly, b-but I want it. Not just n-now but when I'm old and grey, I w-want it then too."

"It's not silly," he assures her, tugging her close – pulling her so she stands between his legs. Her arms go around his neck and his forehead rests against her chest. "I've been thinking so much about what I want and Tee…I want every day with you. All the work days and the weekends and good times and the times that just really suck. I want to spend evenings just having fun with our friends. I want…I want to be a family with you Tina. With you and whoever else we decide to add to it."

She can't stop the tears now. They run down her cheeks unchecked and he presses kisses against her salty skin. "Tell me I'm not too late," he murmurs into her hair as she moves to straddle his lap, his arms going around her waist and holding her tight.

Shaking her head, she presses her body against his. "You're not. We can – I w-want us to be a family. M-me and you."

"_And_ whoever else," he assures her again, and he doesn't miss the way her face breaks into a watery smile just a split-second before she presses her lips against his.

The kiss is hard and warm and full of longing and relief. Her hands clutch at his shoulders and one of his bunches her skirt at her hips while the other presses hotly against the bare skin of her back. He pulls away for a second – just to breathe in the scent of her – but then her hand is cupping the back of his head and pulling him closer while her other hand grasps his shirt in her fist.

"I missed you," she murmurs into his mouth, and it's enough to make his hands slip under her skirt, gripping her ass and tugging her flush against him. Her chest ends up pressed against his and even fully clothed the sensation makes his heart sputter.

"I missed _you_," he agrees, kissing her back; running his hands up and down the smooth length of her thighs. "So much."

Tina's lips leave his and run down the side of his jaw, pressing hot kisses behind his ear and down his neck. He can feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up and a shiver runs down his spine. Slipping his hands back under her shirt, he runs his thumbs along her ribs and then traces the underside of her breasts.

"Mike - " Usually her murmuring of his name is as encouragement, so Mike's mind takes a moment to process when she starts pulling away from him, her hands going to his wrists and easing them out from under her shirt.

"Sorry," he begins with a stammer, feeling his cheeks blush furiously as he pulls his hands away, knowing that he's pushed too far, too soon. He curses himself for being semi-hard beneath his jeans but he knows Tina isn't unaffected either; as she stands up from his lap her cheeks are pink and he can clearly see her nipples straining through her shirt.

She pushes her hair back behind her ear. "No, I'm sorry," she counters, having to take a deep breath before speaking again. "It's just…it's b-been a week Mike. And I'd honestly c-convinced myself you weren't coming b-back."

"I know." Standing up, he rakes a hand through his hair. "Do you want me to go?"

There's a long pause as Tina breathes slowly in and out, and Mike swears he can feel his heart hammering against his ribs as the seconds pass. "No," she finally says. "No, I don't want you to g-go."

The relief hits him like a sledgehammer to the side of the head. "Okay. Good."

Tina licks her lips – obviously not aware how much that just makes Mike want to kiss her senseless – and nods her head towards the bedroom. "I'm going to t-take a shower and change," she tells him, and it would seem like a dismissal save the way she presses her hand briefly into his. "You want to order something? There's a Jeopardy marathon starting in a half hour."

His fingers tingle with the contact and he squeezes her hand briefly. "Korean?" he asks, and is rewarded with his first true, warm smile.

"That would be nice."

Half an hour later finds them both sat on the couch, Tina in sweats and a baggy NYU hoody, damp hair hanging down her back, and Mike in socked feet as he divides up the bibimbap and cheers as one of the Jeopardy contestants reveals his alma mater. "Yeah Cardinals!"

Giggling into her iced tea, Tina pokes him in the thigh with her toe. "So predictable."

He smiles back. "Like you're not excited there's a Presidential category just because you know you'll kick my ass."

Arching an eyebrow, she steals a slice of mushroom from his plate. "I _always _k-kick your ass," she reminds him.

"Except in science," he counters.

"Except in science," she concedes.

They sit in peaceable quiet, eating their food, chopsticks scraping against plates and Mike cursing over a particularly fiddly beansprout that keeps escaping his lips. They both throw answers at the screen and mock when contestants fail, and Tina gets choked up over the newest phone company commercial and has to wipe tears away with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. Mike rubs her ankle to comfort but can't fight the amused smile from tickling his lips.

Tina notices, sniffing hard. "What? It's sweet."

"_You're _sweet," he corrects without thinking, and the words leave both of them blushing and avoiding each other's eyes, though he doesn't move his hand from her foot.

As the evening wears on and plates get abandoned to the coffee table, Mike realises that Tina has ended up inches from his side, and he tentatively lifts up his arm, resting it around her shoulders, relieved when she relaxes into his chest. Closing his eyes, he breathes in the lemon scent of her hair and can feel his muscles loosen up; it's such a familiar sensation that he finds himself pressing a kiss to the top of her head before he's even had time to consider it.

When she takes his hand and pulls it so it settles around her waist, he stops worrying so much that at any moment she's going to tell him to leave.

Some time later the bright theme music signals the end of the Jeopardy marathon; Tina's eyes have been closed for the better part of an hour and Mike has serious leg cramp from where he hasn't wanted to move and wake her. He's relieved when her lashes begin to flutter against her cheeks and she reaches up to rub at her eyes. "What time is it?"

Leaning over, he glances at the clock on the dvd player, illuminated numbers bright in the evening dark. "Just after ten," he admits as she pulls away from his touch, retreating to the other end of the couch to collect her bearings. Watching as she pushes her hair back from her face, he perches tentatively on the edge of his seat. "Should I, uh, go get a cab?"

It seems to take a moment for the question to sink in; Tina's in the middle of yawning, hand pressed over her mouth and when she looks at him her eyebrows are scrunched in confusion. "Do you w-want to go?" she queries, pulling her knees up to her chest and resting her cheek on top as she looks at him.

"No," he answers honestly, because the last thing he wants right now is to be away from her. "I hate my apartment. I just…I don't want to push things."

Understanding radiates through Tina's eyes and she nods her head. Unwinding her body, she stands up from the couch and holds her hand out to him, her face a picture of shyness. "Could you maybe j-just hold me?" she asks, and her voice is so quiet that Mike barely hears it, but he reaches out and laces their fingers together.

"I can do that."

Tina's room is messy and familiar and heart-achingly like home. Three different sweaters are strewn across the foot of the bed and canvasses are stacked against the desk, but the light streaming in the window is bright and beautiful and lights up her body as she tugs off her hoody and sweats, leaving her in only pink and green striped panties. Across the room, Mike tries hard to ignore the way his fingers itch to touch her bare skin, and instead pulls off his own jeans, shirt and t-shirt, so he's wearing only his boxers.

"Is this okay?" he asks her gently. "Do you want me to put my t-shirt back on?"

He holds the shirt in his fist and is surprised when she shakes her head and reaches out for the material. "Can I?" Her voice is thick with uncertainty as her fingers wrap around the shirt, hugging it against her body. "It's stupid b-but I've m-missed sleeping in your things."

Lump in his throat, it's all he can do to nod and watch as she pulls it over her head, Gene Kelly's silhouette stark against her chest as the material falls to mid-thigh. "Not stupid," he finally manages, his voice croaking slightly. "I missed you."

He waits for her to get settled in the bed before he slides in next to her, and allows her to arrange their limbs until he's spooning her back, arm around her waist and holding tight. Tentatively, he tangles his feet with hers and presses a long kiss behind her ear.

"Sweet dreams Tina."

Lifting his hand, she dots a feather-light kiss to the centre of his palm. "Sweet dreams Mike."

They both close their eyes, and if they hold each other a fraction tighter than normal, neither one of them mention it.

xXx

When Tina wakes up the next morning it's to the feel of a hand pressed against her bare stomach and the sound of soft snoring against her neck. For a moment she wonders what woke her up, but then she hears the noise again – the jangle of keys and the soft play of voices in the kitchen, and she extricates herself from Mike's grip with care, sliding out of bed.

She can barely stop herself from skipping down the hallway, and when she reaches the living room to find Kurt and Blaine unpacking groceries in the kitchen cupboards, a ridiculously wide grin from breaking over her lips.

"Morning!" she greets, bouncing on her heels, her hands swinging down by her thighs. She wants them to look at her, to recognise that she appears as glowing as she feels.

In truth, it only does take Kurt glancing over his shoulder and seeing her standing – all wide smile and bare legs and _okay, _the t-shirt kind of gives it away – before a grin breaks over his own face and he abandons the groceries to wrap her up in his arms. "You and Mike made up?"

"He's in the b-bedroom," she nods into his shoulder, fisting his cashmere sweater between her fingers. "He c-came over last night and we t-talked."

"Properly talked, or just fell into bed?"

Smacking him on the shoulder, she rolls her eyes. "Properly talked. And we have m-more to talk about but…I really think we're b-both on the same page."

She gets sandwiched then between Kurt and Blaine in a giant hug and can't help but squeak and giggle as they both press kisses to her face. "I'm really happy for you Tina," Blaine tells her as Kurt peels off, moving to put the yoghurt in the fridge before he forgets. Blaine's arms hold tight around Tina's waist, picking her up so her feet dangle off the floor for a moment, making her laugh. "You guys are too good together to give it all up."

Tina's certain that Blaine would have said something more, except at that moment their little tête-à-tête is interrupted by the sound of a gentle cough. Turning her head, Tina catches sight of Mike – fully dressed and subtly amused – and a smile breaks over her lips. "Morning."

Tina moves away from Blaine, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she grins back. "Good morning."

"Morning," Kurt and Blaine both chime in, leaning against the kitchen counter, arms wrapped around each other's waists and amused smiles on both their faces as they watch the couple interact.

Tina rolls her eyes at them – only just managing to stop herself from sticking her tongue out at their obvious mocking – and reaches out for Mike's hand. "Did you sleep well?"

"Mmm," he murmurs in response, ruffling his hair so it sticks up in the back. "Really well."

Their fingers lace together, and Tina leans into his body. "You have to go?" she asks softly, taking in his day clothes and unable to stop the wave of disappointment crashing through her.

"I work in a couple hours and I need some fresh clothes," he admits with a trace of sadness. "But I'll come over when I finish, if that's okay?"

Tina's smiling so much she can only nod her head in response. "Yeah…that's definitely okay."

"Fine with me too!" Kurt chips in from his spot, unable to stop himself laughing softly – good naturedly – and Tina really _does _stick her tongue out this time, but is distracted from arguing with him when Mike leans down, cupping her chin and pressing a soft kiss against her lips. She kisses back automatically, her fists clutching his t-shirt tightly.

"See you later," he whispers to her, picking his bag up from the floor. Then standing straight, he cocks a salute towards Kurt and Blaine. "Guys."

"Bye Mike," they both wave and grin their salutations, and when the door closes, they break down into laughter.

"I h-hate you," Tina throws over her shoulder as she heads back to her bedroom, flinging herself atop the blankets, breathing in the pillow that stills smells like Mike. Closing her eyes, she can still hear their laughter, but doesn't even care.

XxX

Tina spends the next day checking her phone compulsively – like she did when she and Mike were first dating – and then grinning like a crazed person every time she has a message from him. It doesn't go unnoticed by the girls in her art class and they threaten to steal her cell.

"If you can't pay attention T-C-C then we'll have to take your phone away," Sondra teases, twirling a paintbrush around her finger like a baton, her words an echo of they statement they normally hear from Tina's lips, not the other way around.

"Yeah Tee, no sexting during class," Keisha tosses out with a wicked grin, and it's enough that all the girls – even Nancy – snicker into the palms.

"Enough," Tina states with a roll of her eyes, throwing a sponge in Keisha's direction; it bounces off her shoulder and makes the girl laugh. "Back to work."

When Mike meets her after class with a gentle kiss the girls let out a cacophony of wolf-whistles and cat-calls and Tina can't even make herself pull away long enough to tell them to hush.

xXx

Two days later Mike is lounging in bed, watching as Tina scrambles around on the floor looking for her second ankle boot, and they're arguing about whether he should head back to his own apartment while she goes to work.

"You really d-don't have to go," she tells him, pulling her sweater up as it slides off her pale shoulder, exclaiming in jubilation when she finds the missing boot hiding under an abandoned pair of jeans. "Seriously. This m-meeting should only be a c-couple hours, we're j-just going over some of the new designs. Stay," she insists, but there's a tone of insecurity running under her words that makes him reach out and grab her hand as she wanders past the bed to pick up her purse.

Kneeling up on the mattress, he cups the back of her head and pulls her in for a long, warm kiss that leaves them both a little breathless. "Okay," he agrees, flopping back against the pillows and pulling the blankets back up to his shoulders. "I'll stay."

Purse on her shoulder, Tina grins at him. "You're g-going to still be in bed when I get b-back aren't you?"

"Mmm…maybe," he says with closed eyes, rooting deeper under the covers, but he peeks out from between his eyelashes when he hears her at the door. "Hey Tee?"

She turns around at the sound of his voice. "Yeah?"

Lying in her bed, knowing that he'll see her in a few hours, knowing that she wants him there, feelings claw at Mike's skin, and his voice is almost choked as he tells her, "Thanks."

She just blows a kiss and heads out the door, shutting it with a click behind her.

xXx

When Tina returns to the apartment she's practically bouncing on her feet. Twisting the key in the lock she pushes the heavy door open and then stops, stock still, at the sight before her.

Mike lies on the couch, one of her trashy novels in his hands and a look of absolute concentration on his face, sweater riding up so a thin sliver of skin shows above his waistband. He looks so completely comfortable and at ease that Tina's heart flutters in her chest; it makes her stomach flip.

"You're still here," she says by way of greeting, and realises it didn't quite sound how she meant it when he arches an eyebrow at her and moves to sit upright, marking his place in the book and setting it down on the coffee table.

"You told me to stay," he reminds her as she approaches the couch, but he doesn't sound concerned; she supposes her grin is enough to allay any doubts.

Standing in front of him, she loops her arms around his neck. "I'm glad you d-did." Then feeling his hands land on her waist, she smiles shyly at him. "Hi."

"Hi," he echoes with a smile that he knows makes him look like a smitten fool, his thumbs sweeping in gentle arcs across her hips. "How was your meeting?"

Tina's face absolutely lights up at the question, and Mike's kind of bowled over by just how beautiful she is. He knows it's ridiculous, but he wishes he could make her smile like that all the time. "Great!" she tells him. "They loved the n-new designs and we're m-meeting with the brand people n-next week."

She rises on the balls of her feet in her excitement, obviously not aware of how it makes her breasts bounce at his eye level. He grins stupidly as he tries not to stare. "That's amazing Tee," he agrees, letting his hands slide down her hips and then slowly back up her thighs.

It's been nearly two weeks since their almost-break-up and four more days since their make-up, and since then he's studiously kept to hugs and soft kisses with his hand always above the clothes. But seeing her so happy – so happy and bright and beautiful – makes him ache for something more. He stills his hands on the back of her legs, waiting for a response.

Tina steps away from him, and his first reaction is to curse wildly in his head, damning himself for not having more self-restraint, but then she grasps the bottom of her t-shirt and tugs it over her head. Her hair spills over her shoulders like a waterfall and she tosses the shirt aside, not even caring where it lands. There's a moment of stillness, and then Mike grabs her, kissing her hard on the mouth and then bringing his lips to her collarbone, nipping lazily at her neck. He sucks on her skin until it turns pink.

She melts into his touch, ending up straddling his lap, and his brain almost short circuits at the feel of her pressed so tightly against him and kissing him back with such abandon. He's brought back to himself when he feels Tina's fingers at the snap of his jeans; reaching down, he covers her hands with his own, stilling them. "Can we go to your room?" he asks, trying to ignore the fact that his knuckles are grazing her panties from being pressed so closely together. "I don't want to do this on the couch."

Tina's eyebrow arches, "Since when?" and he laughs in acknowledgement.

Hands on her hips, he lifts her up and waits 'til her feet are firmly on the floor before cupping her face and kissing her deeply. "Not this time," he murmurs with a shake of his head and wraps his hand around hers. "Come on."

In the bedroom, he watches as she toes off her boots and unzips her skirt, leaving her in a blue and white striped bra and black panties. She shrugs at the mismatched ensemble. "I need to do laundry."

Reaching for the hem of his own t-shirt, Mike pulls it up and over his head. "I did a load today."

"Really?"

"It needed doing."

There's a moment of stillness, and then Tina's just launching herself at him, grinning stupidly, and when her hands go to his zipper again he doesn't stop her.

Stumbling backwards towards the bed, he presses her into the mattress, trailing kisses down her sternum and dipping his tongue into her belly button just to make her laugh. "We're gonna put a kid in here one day soon," he whispers into her skin, and it's so quiet that he's not even sure she hears him, until her fingers skate through his hair.

"You know it d-doesn't have to be tomorrow, right?"

"I know."

"It's something I w-want, but it doesn't have to b-be straight away."

"I know. When we're both ready."

Coming up to her side he kisses her soundly, his hand trailing across her body to cup her breasts. The weight is familiar and comforting in his palm, and he leans down to tongue her nipples through the thin cotton of her bra, feeling them stiffen against his lips. She moans, softly, and the sound makes his stomach muscles clench and his skin tingle. Pushing the material out of the way, he takes one nipple into his mouth and tugs with his teeth, his hand reaching down to rub her through her underwear.

"_Fuck," _she gasps, and her hips rise to meet his touch.

His fingers press a little firmer, and his lips murmurs against her neck. "Is this okay?"

"Mmmhmm," she manages to respond, taking a sharp inhale of air as he ghosts her clit. Hooking her leg over his knee she spreads her legs wider for his touch, and it's enough prompting that his fingers slide underneath the lace. She's hot and slick and it makes him groan against her skin.

"Off," he insists, pulling her upright enough that he can unclasp her bra and toss it aside before sliding her underwear down her legs. Then his lips are clasped around her nipple as he slowly slides a finger inside her; her heels are on the mattress and she's cursing and arching herself into his touch for more leverage and _Lord, _how did he almost give this up?

He alternates kisses between her mouth and her neck and her breasts; his finger slides in and out so slowly that she starts to whimper. Her own hand reaches across – blindly – and begins massaging him through his boxers, and the feel of her touch causes him to falter for a moment. But her hips grinding against his hand jolt him back into action; he kisses her firmly as he slides another finger in and crooks them, swallowing her moans with his mouth.

He sweeps his thumb across her clit – little upward strokes that make her muscles clench around his fingers – as he moves his touch inside her. Again, again, again he does it until she's breathing hard and shaking like she has a fever. Stilling his hand makes her curse and beg him not to stop, but he tugs her bottom lip between his teeth. "Tell me what you want."

"Harder," she pleads, her hand covering his as it begins to move in and out of her again. "Please don't stop."

She comes and she comes hard, her whole body jerking and her eyes squeezing shut. "Oh God," she cries out, hands fisting in the sheets, her muscles clenching and unclenching rapidly as she comes down from the high. She's just about caught her breath when she feels him shift on the mattress next to her, and then press a hot, wet kiss on the inside of her thigh. "Mike - " she starts weakly, but before she can get out another word his mouth is on her as his fingers still slide in and out – picking up speed again – and she feels her body flush bright pink all over. His tongue flickers against her and then his fingers angle upwards right as he sucks sharply on her clit; she actually thinks she might pass out as she come hard for the second time. Sweat beads on her skin and she pushes his hand away, pressing her knees together because it's been over a week since he's touched her and _fuck _she needs a moment before he can touch her again.

Rolling onto her side and dragging deep breaths in, Mike's hand runs slowly over Tina's hip; his thumb sweeps in gentle arcs as he presses kisses to the back of her neck. She can feel him hard and hot against her thigh and loves him so much in that moment for his self-restraint, and patience. Most other guys would be turning her over and drilling into her right now, regardless of her oversensitivity. Though most guys wouldn't have got her off twice before considering themselves either.

"You alright?" he asks gently, his words tickling her ear as he rubs her back, and she's amazed by the honest concern in his voice. As though anything could be wrong right now.

"Out of practice," she admits with a shaky laugh, turning in his hold to face him. "Need a minute." He's smiling at her, not smug, just ridiculously happy, and leans down to kiss her lips.

"Take your time," he tells her. "I'm not going anywhere."

It's his words more than anything else that make her reach for the waistband of his boxers, pushing them roughly down his hips and thighs. Her fingers curl around his cock with one quick squeeze and it a surprise that makes him groan and laugh at the same time. "Keeping me on my toes."

Using her other hand to cup his balls, Tina runs her thumb over the head of his cock with a gentle sweep. "Always."

She strokes and squeezes him, varying her speed and pressure until he's the one gasping and cursing. Reaching for her wrist, he stills her with a touch. "Please," he tells her, grabbing both of her hands and pulling her up so she straddles him. "Want to come in you. I've missed feeling you so much."

Hands grasping his shoulders, Tina lets Mike guide himself into her, and then she sinks slowly down. The feeling – him inside her, her around him – makes them both groan, and Mike holds her hips lightly as he alternates his kisses between her breasts and her neck. Tina's pace is so slow – hips moving in smooth, elongated undulations – that Mike's almost caught off guard when he feels his breath begin to catch in his throat. His teeth – busy at her neck – bite down harder than he means to, and he can hear her gasp and her rhythm falter. He takes the opportunity to reach down between their bodies and press firmly against her clit. Her muscles suddenly clenching around him is enough to push him over the edge; he spills into her with a hard thrust and a guttural exclamation.

She collapses against him, both of them breathing heavily, and his hands find his way to her face, smoothing back her hair and feathering light touches across her cheekbones. "You're beautiful," he tells her, holding them both still, not wanting to pull out yet because the feeling of this connection is something he'd missed _so _much and feared he might never have again.

"So're you," Tina murmurs, kissing his dry mouth, lifting herself off of him with a whimper before snuggling into his side. "I love you."

Closing his eyes, he wraps his arms around her cooling body. "And I love you."

xXx

It's dark when Tina wakes up and she can't tell exactly what's caused her to rouse until her eyes adjust to the blackness and she catches sight of Mike coming back in the bedroom door, boxers pulled up over his hips but his chest still bare. "What's going on?" she asks, shifting her body upright and rubbing her eyes with the back of her wrist.

Her voice seems to startle Mike; he curses and jumps and then takes a deep breath at the sight of her. "I was trying to be quiet," he says by way of apology as he sits down on the edge of the bed, blankets fluttering in his wake.

"That's okay," she assures him, squinting in the half-light. "Are you alright?"

He looks embarrassed for a moment and Tina can't figure out why, until the sound of loud grumbling echoes through the room and Mike presses a hand firmly against his stomach. "We missed dinner."

Giggling, Tina pushes her curtain of hair back from her face. "What t-time did we fall asleep?"

"I think about 5:30," Mike laughs, rubbing at his cheek. "It was definitely still light outside."

Kneeling up, Tina wraps her arms around Mike's chest from behind, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder. "You m-must be starving," she acknowledges, counting back the hours in her head. "Did you have lunch?"

Shrugging his shoulders lightly, Mike leans into her touch and closes his eyes. "Maybe like a bagel? I honestly don't remember."

"Mike - "

"Don't 'Mike' me," he argues with an arched eyebrow and a quirked lip, poking her in the side in a way that makes her yelp and giggle. "You know you're just as bad."

She would have argued back but then Mike's stomach rumbles again and it's enough to prompt Tina into action. "Right," she says, climbing off the bed and reaching into her dresser for underwear. "Get dressed."

Searching on the floor for his jeans, Mike pulls them up his long legs before asking, "We're going somewhere?"

"Diner," she confirms grabbing the first item of clothing hanging in her closet and pulling it over her head. The dress is pink and black houndstooth and she digs in the drawer for a pair of long socks to keep her legs warm.

"Tee," he begins, laughing as she hops around, trying to balance as she pulls her hosiery on. "We don't have to go out."

Picking up a long sweater from its place abandoned on her desk, she ties the sash around her waist; there are paint stains on the cuffs but it's late so she hopes no one will notice. "Will you honestly b-be able to sleep feeling this hungry?"

"Maybe?" he hedges, but it's more of a guess than a definite answer, and he's already tugging his t-shirt down over his abs. "What time is it?"

Slipping her feet into a pair of battered ballet flats, Tina reaches onto her nightstand for her phone. "Quarter after three," she tells him with a laugh as she watches him shrug on his jacket. "P-perfect dinner time."

Reaching out, he takes her hand, lacing their fingers together. "Let's go."

xXx

The diner is bright for the middle of the night, and surprisingly busy. Rowdy conversation and blood-shot eyes imply that many of the patrons have stopped in after a hard night on the town, but there are a few people – some in uniform, some not – who seem to have just stopped in on their way home from work. Tina and Mike sit in a booth in the corner, Tina sucking up the remains of her chocolate milkshake as Mike finishes off his fries.

"Oh my God this was perfect," he groans as he dips the last of the fries into his pile of mustard, eating them with relish. Tina just arches an eyebrow and says nothing, content to watch him push his plate away and then pat his stomach. "I don't think I'm going to have to eat again for another week."

"A d-double bacon cheeseburger will do that," Tina teases, licking the last drop of milkshake from the bottom of her straw and then dropping it back into the glass. "I'm just w-worried you might drop dead of a heart attack b-before I get you home."

"Never," Mike argues, wiping his lips with a napkin and grinning at her. "I'm indestructible. Besides," he says with a glint in his eye and an arching of his eyebrow, "I'm sure I can find some way to burn off the calories."

Tina's searching in her purse for enough dollar bills to cover the tip and can't stop the corners of her lips from twitching into a grin. She can feel her cheeks flush, which she knows is ridiculous, but there's something about Mike so flagrantly propositioning her – in public – that makes her skin pink.

They leave the diner hand-in-hand, Mike softly humming the song that had been playing on the jukebox, unable to stop the smile on his face. They've just stepped out the front door and onto the sidewalk when they feel first one drop, then two, and then the sky opens and rain starts hammering down on their heads.

"Ack!" Tina cries with a laugh, throwing her hands above her as though they will protect her from the onslaught, but she doesn't argue when Mike takes a hold of her elbow.

"Come on."

They duck into a little alleyway with a half-awning and press themselves against the wall as they watch the rain fall in the street. Tina's already shivering with cold, water dripping from her eyelashes and down her hair, and so when Mike opens up his jacket for her she snuggles against his body without hesitation. "Cold," she tells him unnecessarily; he can feel her body shivering, so he rubs his hands up and down her arms to try and warm her up.

"Shouldn't have had ice-cream," he teases her, wrapping her up in his arms and squeezing gently, pressing a light kiss to her neck as she seeks to burrow further into his chest.

"Didn't know it was g-going to rain," she counters with a soft mewl as his lips find her pulse point and suck gently. "Miiiiike."

"Hmm?" he murmurs into her skin, his hands on her hips and holding firmly. His body sways lightly as though he's still playing a song in his head, and she finds herself moving with the rhythm too. "Just warming you up."

She giggles lightly, pressing her hips against his with purpose. "You are."

He groans then, because she's rocking into him and even with the rain dripping down his neck it's enough to make his skin heat up. And when her little hand sneaks under the waistband of his jeans and gives him a gentle squeeze, his knees buckle. "_Tee. Fuck." _

"Two c-can play at this game," she counters, but then regrets her words, because they're barely out of her mouth before Mike is flipping them around and pressing her hard against the brick wall, his hand disappearing up her skirt and rubbing the soft material of her underwear.

"Game huh?" he breathes into her ear, his voice low and growling as his fingers press harder against her slick skin as his body leans into hers. "Like who says uncle first?"

There's something about the gravel in his voice that makes her tense, just for a moment, and Mike stills his hand, bringing it back to cup her face, his brows knotting into a frown. "Babe, you okay?"

The fingers on one hand hold her hip gently and the others sweep across her cheek, and she finds herself exhaling deeply. "I'm fine." Her shoulders relax and shaking herself, she lets her body lean into the brick wall behind her. "I j-just think you have an unfair advantage – I'm already all w-wet," she tells him with a wicked grin, holding her hand out to catch some droplets of rain, but the double entendre is enough to make him groan and press himself against her; his lips are on hers and both hands come up to cup her breasts, pinching her nipples through the sodden material. His thigh presses between her legs, and it's all she can do to stop herself grinding against him.

They kiss solidly, hotly, their bodies pressed so tightly together that the rain can barely get between them. Arching up, Tina bites down on Mike's earlobe, making him groan and reach down for the snap on his jeans. "We're outside," Tina reminds him as he pulls his cock from his boxers, already hard and hot, but her breathing is ragged and she helps him shove his jeans another inch down his hips.

Reaching for her underwear and tugging it aside, he pauses a second, his forehead resting against hers. "I'll stop if you ask me to."

"No," she shakes her head, reaching down to guide him into her as he pulls her leg up and around his waist. "Don't stop."

He pushes into her hard and the pace is fast and frenetic. Tina has to bite Mike's shoulder to stop from crying out – knowing that she's leaving teeth marks in his skin - and Mike holds her hips hard enough that they'll probably be bruises, but doesn't care. The way his chest scrapes against the wet material covering her nipples with every thrust makes her skin flush and tingle; when his breath starts catching in his throat and his grip tightens she only has to reach between their bodies and touch herself so lightly before she's coming alongside him.

For a moment they just stay wrapped in each other, catching their breathes, but then Mike pulls away and tucks himself back into his jeans as Tina straightens her underwear and smoothes back down her skirt. Looking up at the sky, they both realise the rain has stopped.

Breaking into giggles, Tina presses a hand to her flushed cheek. "Uncle?"


	13. Chapter 13

Hello all! Just something to get me warmed up for Tike Week on tumblr, this is posted without beta (other than my own) because the lovely Kaitlyn is off on holibobs and hopefully enjoying a rest and lots of sunshine. SO apologies for any and all mistakes, they are completely my own fault!

I hope you all enjoy, and please remember reviews, no matter how small, are always welcome and really appreciated. Enjoy!

XXXXX

"I don't want you to goooo," Tina whines, winding her body around Mike's as they sit on the couch, her sketchbook tossed aside the moment he mentions leaving. Their day had been moments stolen between her classes and meetings and his scant hours off between shifts, and only two hours ago they'd finally sat down together for dinner and a stupid movie that neither of them can remember the name of.

Arms around her and rubbing her back over her thin shirt, Mike laughs softly. "Babe, I've got about as much wear out of these clothes as I can. I need to go back to my apartment and replenish the stock."

"I have a w-washer," she pouts, nuzzling her face into his neck, breathing in the warm, clean smell of his skin, letting her fingers toy with the hair at the nape of his neck.

It's enough to make him almost purr, and his eyelids flutter shut, but he shakes his head. "The Chief of Medicine's visiting the ER tomorrow. I need something smart, with a tie. And my shift starts at six - I have to leave."

There's a pause, a moment of silence, and then Tina takes a short breath in and directs her words into his neck. "What if you d-didn't?"

Confused, Mike's brows knot together. "Didn't what?"

"D-didn't have to leave," she clarifies, pulling away from him enough that she can put her hands on his biceps and look him in the face. "What if y-your stuff was all here?"

She can see the smile pricking at the edges of his lips as his hands slide around to her hips. "Are you asking me to move in with you?"

Biting her bottom lip, Tina shrugs her shoulders, but her eyes are bright with hope. "Maybe," she admits, her thumb tracing a random pattern beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. "I mean, we've b-been talking about having a kid together, it seems crazy that we still live in different parts of t-town. And you're closer to w-work here. But, I mean, is that something you'd be interested in?"

He can't stop the smile now; it blossoms over his face. "Yeah," he grins, reaching up to cup her face between his palms. "I would definitely be interested in that." He presses a soft kiss against her lips before pulling back quickly, as though something has just occurred to him. "But what about Kurt?"

Looping her arms around his neck, Tina drops her chin to her chest. "I'll talk to him. I m-mean, he's at Blaine's all the time anyways. I don't think he'll m-mind."

"I don't want him to feel like I'm forcing him out." Mike's voice is awkward and he reaches behind to rub the back of his neck. "I mean, this is _his _apartment."

"And he's here m-maybe one night a week," Tina points out, scooting backwards on the couch so Mike can gather up his things. "I really d-don't think he'll mind."

She watches as he moves around the living room, picking up an abandoned shirt and shoving it to the bottom of his backpack before sliding his sneakers on and shrugging into his jacket. He looks at her for a long moment. "This'll be a big change."

"F-for all of us," she agrees. "You sure you're okay w-with it? It's n-not too fast?"

Zipping up his jacket he laughs softly, and leans down to kiss her. His lips are warm and firm and say more than even his words do. "Not too fast," he assures. "I'd really like it if we had a home together."

Tina grins, pushing her long loose hair back from her face. "I'd like that too."

"So you'll talk to Kurt?" Mike asks, straightening up, hoisting his bag onto his shoulder and checking in his pockets for his phone and keys.

Tina nods, pulling at the hem of her long shirt as she stands up from the couch, reaching out to tangle her hand with his. "We're m-meant to be having lunch Wednesday. I'll t-talk to him then."

They're at the front door and then leaning together, Tina just slightly up on tiptoes for a kiss. It's warm and sweet and hopeful and excited and when they pull back they're both grinning at each other with wide, easy smiles. "Call me before you go to sleep?" he asks, brushing her cheek with his finger.

"I will," she promises, leaning into his touch.

One more kiss and then the door closes behind him.

xXx

The wind is blowing a gale as Tina approaches Kurt's office building, and she's quite thankful for the respite of being able to duck inside away from the awful weather. Shaking the droplets of rain from her hair she waves to the security desk – after three years they recognise her on sight and wave back with fond smiles – and heads to the elevator and _Icon_'s floor. All the way up she practices her speech, mumbling things under her breath, only falling silent when the boy from the mailroom gets in next to her; she'd rather not appear totally insane.

She's built it up so much – perfected the words that she wants to say to him – that when she reaches Kurt's desk to find it empty, she falters.

Checking the small pocket watch swinging from the chain of her skirt, she knows she's on time, and is just shifting from foot to foot when a familiar face wanders past, practically buried in armfuls of material. "Hey girl!" Mercedes greets fondly, managing a tiny finger wiggle as way of greeting, shifting the bolts in her arms as she smiles. "He's still in a meeting with the design guys. You want to come wait with me?"

Smiling as she nods, Tina leaves a quick scribbled note and sticks it to the screen of Kurt's computer before following Mercedes down the hall and into her lair. As always, it's bright and colourful and full of different patterns and materials and Mercedes dumps the material into one of the chairs so she can reach out and fold Tina into a backbreaking hug.

"How are you?" she asks, pulling back and giving Tina a sharp appraisal, hands on hips. "You look gorgeous."

"Thanks," Tina manages with a small blush and a smile, shrugging off her jacket and folding it over her arms. "I'm pretty g-good." Then dropping into the chaise lounge that is free of samples, she asks, "How's the life of Miss Jones?"

Grabbing one of the bolts of material and wrapping it around the nearest mannequin, Mercedes rolls her eyes. "I am sick of the men of New York if that's what you're asking."

"Another b-bad date?"

"The worst. The guy was late meeting me, took me out to the _worst _Italian restaurant in the Village, spilled his drink on my shoes, doesn't even offer to pay and then still tried to get on this at the end of the night."

"Ouch."

"I was all _hell to the no, _you know?"

"Understandable," Tina agrees, fiddling with a loose strand of her hair. "I c-can't believe you always manage to f-find these losers."

Pulling a pin from between her lips and securing it in the mannequin so the material's rouched at the hip, Mercedes sighs. "I know. I just want one night where a guy looks at me and says 'You look so beautiful'. Then grabs my hand and asks me to dance. A gentleman, you know? Is it too much to ask?"

Thinking back to the previous night where Mike had – for no particular reason – taken her by the hand and started swaying the two of them together to the strains of the kitchen radio, Tina shakes her head. "It's n-not too much to ask. You d-deserve someone great, Mercedes."

Laughing out loud, Mercedes grins at her. "Well, if you meet anyone who fits the bill, send him my way, okay?"

Nodding, Tina bites her lip. "P-promise."

Looking over her shoulder, Mercedes eyes Tina with one brow raised. "And how is your steamy love life going? I'm assuming that scarf isn't just for the fashion points?"

Reaching up to her neck, Tina slides her fingers along the smooth scarlet silk of her scarf – her gift from Kurt, currently knotted at her neck and hiding a particularly noticeable bite mark – and feels a giggle and a blush well up inside her. "It's g-going well," she admits, pressing her hand against her hot cheek in a way that makes Mercedes laugh just looking at her.

"You are one smitten kitten," Mercedes notes, reaching over to bat at one of Tina's ponytails with a wide smile – in a way that makes Tina squawk and laugh as she ducks out of reach. "It's great to see you so happy you know. Kurt used to come in here worried up a storm about you – uh uh uh, now don't give me that face, he's allowed."

Tina tries to school her wrinkled nose but only manages a slight pout.

"He cares about you girl and he always has and he always will. That's what brothers do, trust me. Mine's married and in his thirties and still calls me every weekend to make sure I'm safe in the big bad city." She throws a wink Tina's way, reaching over to take a sip of the earlier-abandoned coffee on her desk, wincing at the lukewarm taste. "And Kurt – he's always going to do the same."

"What am I going to do?"

Both women's heads snap up at the sound of the voice, and then Kurt's blowing into the room, throwing himself down on the chaise and wrapping his arms around Tina. "You're l-late," she teases, tapping at her wrist (even though she wears no watch there). "We said h-half one."

Leaning away from her, Kurt flops his head back dramatically on the couch, rolling his eyes. "Blame the graphics department," he insists, stretching his legs out in front of him and pointing his toes. "They're all up in arms because I suggested changing the logo's colour for the commencement edition. You'd think I told them I wanted puce with lime green polka dots. Seriously it's just a little red, white and blue."

"I'm sure you'll w-win them over," Tina assures him, leaning over to knock a little kiss to his cheek. "Now I'm hungry and you promised me lunch, c-can we go?"

Letting her grab his hand and pull him upright, Kurt groans. "I suppose we can. Hey 'Cedes, you want me to bring you back a salad from the place?"

Blowing a kiss, Mercedes waves them off. "You're fabulous!"

"I'll be on my cell!"

xXx

She'd been all raring to go, to speak to him and tell him everything, but twenty minutes later Tina's bobbing her straw up and down in her pink lemonade and murmuring agreeably as Kurt talks about Blaine's upcoming birthday. She hears something about a sake bar down in Tribeca and a pair of silver shoes, but then her mind begins wandering and -

"You're not listening to a word I say are you?"

Tina's head snaps up and she feels herself drain pale white and immediately flush with scarlet heat. Kurt's got one eyebrow raised but his lip is twisted in a smirk and Tina pushes her hair back from her face with apology. "I'm sorry," she tells him, biting her lip and inwardly cursing her inattention.

Reaching out for his latte, Kurt eyes her over the top of his mug. "Everything okay?" His voice is gentle and curious and kind of sceptical, as though he's preparing for the worst. "Only you text me five times in two days to check we were still on for lunch, and I know you have the whole 'absentminded artist' thing going on but – that was excessive even for you."

"Sorry," she says again, fingering the buttons on her sweater, and is about to launch into speaking when the waitress appears at their table. Inwardly, Tina curses her terrible timing but just about manages to keep her head together enough to order her salad and listen to Kurt ask about the sourcing of the vegetables. Normally she applauds his food ethics but right now she just wants to scream at him that lettuce is lettuce and even if it's come from the magical land of Narnia can he just eat it?

Finally - after what seems like an age of produce talk followed by his very specific order for Mercedes' take out - the waitress leaves and he looks back over at Tina. "So why all the texts?" he asks again, as though he didn't hear her apology before. "Did you seriously think I'd become addle-minded between last Wednesday and this?"

"I just wanted to see you," Tina manages with a shrug, but she's staring at a bead of condensation sweating its way down the outside of her glass.

She knows he notices, because when he speaks his voice is pointed and curious and tinged with part annoyance, part worry. "Well I'm here now and you're barely even looking at me. What's going on?"

Cursing in her head, Tina's clutching her skirt between her fingers and takes a deep breath; though she means to ease into it, the words tumble from her lips the minute she opens her mouth. "I asked Mike to move in with me."

There's silence, and before Kurt's even had a chance to take a breath, Tina begins rambling, avoiding his eyes. "I kn-know I should have asked you first and I'm n-not asking you to move out if you don't want to I just know you stay at Blaine's m-most of the time. But it's your house and n-nothing needs to change if you don't want it to and I'm really sorry Kurt I j-just…I love him. I d-don't like being away from him. And I want to do this next bit of my life with him."

When she's finished speaking she takes a deep breath, feeling the oxygen flood all the way to the tips of her toes, and when she finally looks up at him he's wearing a small smile only slightly tinged with sadness. "Tina," he finally says with a small chuckle. "Were you really worried I would be angry about this?"

It seems silly now, and she shrugs her shoulders, letting the last bubble of tension escape as she blows a strand of violet streaked hair from her face. "You're n-not?"

Taking a beat, Kurt leans back, crossing his legs and moving his hands to fiddle with the buttons on his smart navy blazer. "I know I never told you but…Blaine's asked me to move in with him about every two months for the past year and a half."

"What? Why didn't you t-tell me?"

Cocking his head to one side, Tina feels him nudge his foot against hers under the table. "You know why."

"Kurt - "

"_Tina, _I couldn't…you know I couldn't leave you."

Her cheeks flare again, but this time with slight irritation. "Kurt, I don't need - "

"I _know _you don't need anyone looking after you. You don't need it. But you're…you're as close as I'll ever get to having a sister, okay? And it's my job as your older brother - "

"By seven months!"

"It's my _job," _he says, talking over her with firm tones, even though she's less annoyed now and half laughing, her fingers tugging one ponytail. "To make sure you're okay. You moved to New York with _me, _Tina. I couldn't leave you here anymore then I would have left you at a party in High School."

"So if Mike moves in…I w-wouldn't be pushing you out?"

"No. But…I'm only going to ask once Tina and I want you to answer me honestly – are you _sure _this is what you want? What will make you happy? I mean, two weeks ago you guys were on the verge of being over."

It's not said in an accusatory manner, but Tina feels herself blush in indignation none the less. She wants to snip at him, to tell him it's none of his business, but this is _Kurt, _and she knows he's only asking because he cares about her. "We talked," she starts, but doesn't get any further because the waitress returns with their salad and then is fussing with Kurt's dressing-on-the-side and making such ridiculously pointless heart-eyes at him that Tina almost laughs in pity. Instead she just spears a piece of tomato and props her chin in her palm until the clueless server is gone.

Finally alone, Kurt points his fork at her. "You were saying?"

"We talked," she repeats, her toes tapping almost nervously against the linoleum floor. "The reason we were unhappy is because we d-didn't know where we were going. Together I mean. And n-now we do."

"Sure?"

"Yes," she insists, and there must be absolute certainty in her tone because Kurt reaches across the table then, tangling his fork-free hand with her own.

"Okay then," he says with a nod, squeezing her much smaller fingers. "Wow."

"Yeah," she agrees, and suddenly the impact of what she's proposing hits her. No more popcorn and Project Runway. No more Saturday mornings reading Vogue in bed together. No more oranges at breakfast. No more jasmine tea and pizza nights and stealing his moisturiser and drinking his coffee and staying up late to keep him company while he writes a last-minute article. No more giggling over ridiculous blogs and writing rude messages to each other with the magnetic poetry on the refrigerator. "I'm _really _going to miss you."

Kurt smiles at her then with a definite trace of sadness and squeezes her hand. "I'm going to miss you too Single Lady."

"And you do _w-want _to live with Blaine, right?"

Reaching down for a piece of cucumber, Kurt pops it between his lips. "Of course I do," he assures her. "I mean, I've basically been living with Blaine for a year. And I think it's the next step we both need to take. And I know I've been putting it off…and maybe using you as an excuse."

"Kurt - "

"Do you even realise how much you've changed since you met Mike?"

For a moment Tina doesn't know what to say to that – especially when Kurt pulls his hand back – but then he's running a hand through his hair and leaning back in the booth and staring at her with _such _a look that she just waits for him to lick his lips and continue. "You weren't happy Tina, for such a long time. And it killed me that I couldn't pull you out of that or make it better for you."

She opens her mouth to speak, but Kurt raises a hand and she falls back to silence, staring down at her plate because she can't bear the look in his eyes. "You're my sister, and – I mean, I know everything was okay, but it was just that: _okay. _And then you met Mike and…remember that scene in _Pleasantville? _Where they all start seeing things in Technicolor?"

She presses her lips together hard, because damn it, she is _not _going to cry over a Cobb Salad. "Like when Dorothy goes to Oz for the first t-time?"

"Move in with Mike," he answers, indirectly. "But I promise you now, you're not getting rid of me, okay?"

Sniffling, Tina doesn't realise a tear has eked its way out of her eyelashes until she feels it streak down her cheek. She scrubs at her face with the back of her hand. "N-not ever," she promises. "We'll still see each other."

"All the time," he agrees with a vehement nod. "And our Wednesday lunch date stands."

"And the girls still want to see you – you promised them a sewing lesson, remember?"

"I didn't forget. And I'm not disappearing off the face of the earth Tee…just moving out. Two subway stops or five minutes in a cab."

Blinking heavily, Tina feels another tear drop run down her nose and curses herself for being so predictably emotional. "I know," she nods, sniffling hard and glaring at her rocket as though it has personally wronged her. "I'll just m-miss you."

"You'll have Mike."

"Yeah," she nods again, a watery smile breaking over her face at his name. "And Blaine gets you 100% of the time. No more fighting for the shower with three other people when he has court."

"No more Saturday morning cartoons with his new best bro."

"We'll set them up on play d-dates," Tina offers with a smile, and then they're both laughing, albeit slightly watery. "They can play cheesy pop music and try on cardigans and eat Captain Crunch to their hearts content. C-compare the ridiculous expectations of Asian parents."

"That reminds me, I should call my Dad. Get him to finally send up the monogrammed towels that Blaine got when we graduated High School."

"Oh my God, you two are going to have to m-most dapper apartment in history aren't you?"

"His and his matching bathrobes."

Tina laughs at that brightly, her head leaning back on the booth and her chin tipped up. "Mike's going to have to get used to m-my clutter all the time," she admits with wide eyes, as though the thought has just occurred to her.

"Find a place for his medical journals in between all your trashy novels," Kurt teases, waving his fork with a piece of grilled chicken in her direction. "Not to mention wedging his clothes in between your ridiculous collection of boots."

"As though you c-can talk!" Tina grows, picking a piece of ice from her glass and throwing it at him. It bounces off his face and onto the table with the clatter. "The m-man with the thousand scarves!" Kurt's laughing too then, dabbing his damp cheek with his napkin and Tina just sticks her tongue out at him. "We'll just make your room into a walk-in wardrobe," she teases. "Then they'll b-be plenty of space."

"Ten bucks says you'll have stacked it full of canvasses in a month," he jokes. "Or boxes that Mike'll never _quite _get round to unpacking, labelled as 'junk drawer 2010-2011' or 'old med school notes' or something. Trust me, I've seen Blaine's under-stair closet and he's lived in that apartment for over two years."

The waitress starts collecting up their empty plates, flashing Kurt a little wink that leaves him looking somewhere between startled and amused, when Tina stands up from her seat and slides into the booth next to Kurt, wrapping her arms around his neck. Breathing in the familiar scent of his hair product and moisturiser, she murmurs into his skin. "Thank you."

He's confused, but doesn't hesitate wrapping his arms around her back. "For what?"

"Making this all so easy."

Taking her hand, they get up from the booth and walk out of the restaurant, and he squeezes her into his side. "Just remind him that if he's not an absolute Prince Charming to you, I have Sai swords and I know how to use them."

xXx

"I got these in Incheon!"

"As a gift!"

"For the apartment, not for you!"

Kurt and Tina stand inches apart, each one holding half of a pair of intricately hand-carved wooden candlesticks. A part-full cardboard box lies on the floor between them. "I can't take one, that would look ridiculous," Kurt says with a dramatic rolling of his eyes, and it's that moment of distraction that allows Tina's hand to dart out and grab the other stick, so she's holding both.

"Good," she laughs, hopping sock-footed out of his way as he tries to lunge for them. "Because they're mine!"

"Like that grey Dior sweater is yours?" Kurt shoots back with a raised eyebrow, the two of them circling the couch, Tina walking backwards and Kurt prowling, like a coiled snake about to strike. At his words, Tina looks aghast.

"You _g-gave _that to me!"

"I _leant _it to you," he corrects, speeding up so he's scant inches from her, causing her to squeak and make a run for the kitchen, using the table as a barrier between them. "Lending implies a return at a designation point."

Tina pouts, her long ponytail swishing behind her bare shoulders, straps of her tank top stripy and wide. "You said it l-looks better on me!" she counters, stepping backwards, almost tripping over another half-filled box of plates and bowls. "If you t-take it back you'll only think that every t-time you wear it!"

"Sacrilege."

"Truth!"

Kurt's just made a lunge across the table to grab the sticks when the lock clicks and the door is pushed open and they just about manage to take in the two heads – one curly, one spiked up – before Tina's running towards them, screaming with laughter. "Save me!"

It's not quite the welcome that Blaine and Mike were expecting – having met each other half a block away on their respective walks home – and they both stand for a moment with mouths agape, even as Tina cowers behind their bodies and Kurt ducks and dives and reaches between them to poke her bare skin.

"Should I ask?" Mike wonders aloud as his girlfriend uses his body as a shield, his chin tipped towards his smaller counterpart.

Blaine just shrugs with a smile. "Packing," he explains. "Enough to turn any sane person into a five year old."

They stand there for a moment until Tina makes a break for it and runs down the hall – Kurt barely an inch from her heels. Watching the two disappear into the bedroom, Mike and Blaine wait for the inevitable crash, and it comes, followed by loud cursing from Kurt and hysterical laughter from Tina. "Guess you won't be taking that lamp," she giggles, and even from the kitchen Mike and Blaine can't help but smile at each other, enjoying the carefree ambiance.

"Dare I ask how the packing's going?" Blaine wonders aloud, setting his briefcase down by the front door as Mike slings his backpack onto the table, the comment aimed at the two way-faced warriors who wander back down the hall, Kurt limping slightly and Tina with a bright, shit-eating grin on her face.

"Good," Tina replies, leaning up to press her lips against Blaine's scruffy cheek before wrapping her arms around Mike's neck and kissing the corner of his mouth in greeting. "I'm k-keeping the candle sticks and Kurt's been k-kind enough to let me keep his Dior sweater."

"I'm taking the blue throw," he counters with a pathetic half-hop, sinking into a kitchen chair. "_And _the comfy ottoman."

"We're going to bring my couches over anyways," Mike interjects somewhat absently, reaching into the fridge for a beer and then passing them around as the others make their requests known. "They fit in with the colours and they've hardly been used."

"N-not like this old thing," Tina agrees as she flops onto their present couch – with its worn patches and it's poking springs – crooking her finger for Mike to join her and snuggling into his side when he does. "Remember when we g-got these?"

Taking a long drink of his beer, Kurt smiles around the bottleneck. "Our what? Second week in the city?"

"Fifty bucks at the G-goodwill," she agrees, rubbing her hand along the patched material fondly.

"How we even fitted this monster into our first apartment I'll never know."

"And how on earth did we get it out the door?"

"And up the stairs here?"

Snorting, Blaine raises his hand. "Me and Puck carried it up while the two of you argued about different shades of yellow for the kitchen. Quinn was carrying cushions and sheets because she'd just found out she was pregnant with Beth. I put my back out for a week!"

Leaning against his boyfriend's shoulder, Kurt sends a mischievous wink Tina's way. "Really?"

"Yeah," Tina nods, her eyes wide and faux-innocent. "I don't remember that at all."

"Wait!" Kurt holds a finger up, rubbing his chin with his other hand. "Was Puck wearing a tank top? And he still had a tan from the summer?"

"Oh, I d-do remember that!"

At this Blaine throws his hands up in the air and then Kurt and Tina are laughing and Mike's looking down at his girlfriend fondly and pressing a kiss against her hair and drinking his beer, and when Kurt suggests ordering a pizza Mike doesn't feel like he could be any happier in any other place, in any other moment than right here and now.

"You don't really remember Puck's biceps do you?" Blaine pouts as Kurt taps the pizza place number into his phone, and in response Kurt leans over, pressing their lips together.

"You couldn't get out of bed for five days and I had to give you massages morning and night with deep heat," he recalls flawlessly. "You were studying for the bar and didn't forgive the couch until we had sex on there the night you got your exam results through."

Blaine blushes red at that, but leans in for another kiss. "I almost think I'll be sad to see the old girl go."

xXx

It's two days before moving day when Tina finally mentions going over to Mike's to see what stuff of his he wants to bring over and keep. The couch is already decided but other than that he's been pretty silent on the whole issue. "Just bits and pieces," is his standard answer, coupled with a shrug. "Clothes." He doesn't seem particularly interested. So when she _finally _convinces him that they need to go to his apartment and box some stuff up, he rolls his eyes and huffs a breath before giving in. "Fine."

Tina's been to his apartment a couple times before but she knows he tries to avoid it and she can understand why: it's clinical. All the furnishings are clean and tidy and everything has a place but honestly, to Tina, it looks as if no one has lived in it for months. Which she supposes is fairly true with the amount of time Mike spends either with her or at the hospital. But there's not really anything of _Mike _about it.

"Grab a b-box," she tells him. "We can p-put everything in it that you want to take. And first things first – why are these hidden away?" Mike's desk is orderly, but stacked up with his medical journals are two pristinely crisp, one for his undergraduate degree, and one for his graduation from medical school. "Why don't you have these hung up?"

Looking over his shoulder at her as he stacks books in the bottom of one of the boxes, Mike wrinkles his nose. "I just never really felt like they were that important I guess," is his answer as he wipes a layer of dust of an old and battered copy of _Gray's. _

Rolling her eyes, Tina takes them and places them carefully in the bottom of her box, between two large medical textbooks to keep them flat. "You should b-be proud of them Mike. You d-do a job that helps so many p-people."

He ducks his head then, a smile tickling the corner of his mouth. Looking up at her from under his lashes, he reaches out and squeezes her hand. "How do you always manage to make me feel special?" he asks – somewhat rhetorical – but she grins at him and answers all the same.

"By always b-being right, that's how."

Clearing the living room doesn't take long. He's donating most of the furniture and other than books and his computer everything else can either go in the trash or to the Goodwill. In the kitchen they take a few dishes and a couple mugs (one that has a picture of Santana and Brittany at Disney Land wearing matching Mickey Mouse ears and honestly, she's asking the girls about that next time she sees them) and a few of his old cook books – one that has additional notes scrawled in Mandarin on the recipes that he says used to belong to his NaiNai. They take his rice cooker because it's newer and less battered than the one she has and the tea set that had been one of his gifts on convocation. He's never used it, but it at least has some sentimental value.

Finally, when they make it into the bedroom, Tina finally gets her first true sense of _Mike _in the apartment. Though the sheets are plain dark green and everything is pretty orderly, there's a plaid shirt thrown over the end of the bed and a shoe rack full of multicoloured sneakers, and a big, original 1950s poster of 'Singing in the Rain' hanging over his bed.

"Oh thank G-god," Tina breathes with a quirk of a smile.

"What?"

"I really w-wondered if I'd f-find anything of you here."

He looks at her curiously as he folds up some clothes, layering them in a duffel bag that sits on the end of the bed. "What do you mean?"

She glances at him, and then at the night stand where four pictures stand: one of him, Matt and Sam, arms slung around each other and sweaty and grinning obviously post-basketball; one of Santana and Brittany on their wedding day both in gorgeous off-white dresses and looking beyond happy; one of the two of them that he took on his phone – him with a quirked eyebrow as she presses a kiss to his cheek; and lastly a picture of his parents and him at his Med School graduation. His father looks stiff and formal but his mother clutches a handkerchief in her hand and wears a watery smile.

Picking them up one by one, she wraps the photos carefully in bubble wrap before placing them between folded up t-shirts. "The rest of this apartment c-could belong to anybody Mike. It's strange."

She can see his shoulders stiffen slightly, and she knows it puts him on the defensive. The tone of his voice changes almost imperceptibly. "It's not like you haven't been here before."

Crawling across the bed, she stops in front of him; taking the sweater he is folding out of his hands and placing it on the bed next to her. Kneeling up, she twines her arms around his neck. "I'd n-never really noticed," she admits, pleased when his hands go to her hips in reciprocation. Playing with the short hair at the nape of his neck, she shrugs her shoulders. "I just…this is the you I love. Sneakers and skinny ties and a random c-collection of vinyl and Gene Kelly and your friends."

He laughs then, ducking his head slightly so he can press a kiss to the juncture of her neck and shoulder. "Does this mean we can put my 'Singing in the Rain' poster over your bed?"

"_Our _bed," she corrects automatically. "And m-maybe. If you convince me p-properly."

She's grinning at him and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, purposefully flirtatious. His hands on her hips slide around and down and into the back pockets of her red plaid jeans. Taking a step forward, he presses their hips together. "Hmm…how am I going to do that?" he asks, the words murmured between kisses that he trails up her neck.

Arching her back, Tina sighs her reply. "I don't know," she teases. "I g-guess you'll just have to use your imagination. Or the t-tools at your disposal."

The final words are said with her fingers on the snap of his jeans, and then her hand is tugging them down enough – damn skinny jeans – to dip inside his boxers and give him a gentle squeeze. He laughs her name, cursing, and then bites softly down on her neck while his hands take the bottom of her black t-shirt, easing it up and over her head. Her violet streaked hair tumbles over her shoulders and he sweeps it aside so he can suck at her neck while palming her breasts, trying to ignore the fact that she's now got his jeans and boxers down to his knees and her thumb keeps sweeping over the head of his cock.

Feeling goose bumps break over his skin, he grasps her under the arms, easing her carefully back onto the mattress. She watches from the pillows as he kicks off his sneakers and pulls down his jeans and boxers before yanking his t-shirt over his head.

"No waiting around," she teases, undoing the button on her own pants and sliding them down her legs, leaving her in red lace-trimmed panties that make his heart skip a beat. Leaning over her, he presses a kiss to the curve of her hip, watching up her body as she reaches behind and undoes the clasp on her bra, pulling it down her arms and tossing it aside.

"You're unfairly hot, did you realise that?" Mike asks, trailing his kisses up her body, stopping to flick his tongue against her newly bared nipples in a way that makes her back arch and her skin flush, while his right hand snakes down her body and teases the silky material of her underwear. "We're _supposed _to be packing."

Giggling, Tina reaches out and wraps a hand around his length, drawing out a slow, caressing touch and letting her thumb trail from base to tip. "You _are _packing," she teases. "And m-my box definitely needs filling."

It would sound ridiculous and crude except she's laughing and wiggling her eyebrows, and so Mike teases her back with his fingers, barely dipping inside her and keeping his touch feather-light. She twists her hips – feet flat on the bed and pressing down, her body angled up and searching for him – and he uses the opportunity to slide the underwear off her legs. Then sliding a hand beneath her knee, he pulls her leg up towards his chest as he enters her in one swift thrust.

She curses, still laughing, as the feeling makes her stomach clench, but then he has his hand under her other leg and lifts it up too and she honestly thinks he might be hitting the base of her spine as he thrusts in because _God. _Her hands grip the sheets, pressing hard into the mattress to keep her level and she wiggles until she can move her legs, wrapping them around Mike's back and locking her ankles together. It stills him for a moment, letting her catch her breath as she feels herself tremble, and then when she nods and murmurs "Okay," he begins moving again, slow drawn out thrusts that make his thigh muscles shake. With their change in position he can lean down and kiss her neck and breasts and lips, and he tugs her bottom lip between his teeth as he pinches a nipple.

"You alright?"

Mike's voice is slightly breathless, and Tina can see a thin sheen of sweat on his brow. Reaching up, she threads her fingers through his hair, tugging slightly as he moves in and out. It makes him groan and his forefinger trails down her body, stopping to tickle the side of her ribs. "Miiike!" she giggles, twisting out of his touch. "Stop!"

Laughing, he tucks his head into her neck, nibbling her skin. Tugging her upright, he pulls out for long enough to rearrange them so he's knelt up behind her and she's leaning forward, forehead resting on her folded arms. Mike grasps her curvy hips as he presses in, and it hits a completely different spot inside of her than before, making her bite the outside of her wrist.

"Harder? Slower?" Mike pants, reaching around for her clit, giving her a sharp tap when she doesn't answer.

Gasping, Tina grasps at the pillows, rolling her hips in a circle and arching her back. "Slow," she requests, reaching behind and running her hand along his thigh more by luck than aim, the skin warm and firm beneath her fingers. "Deep, but slow."

Mike's always been good at following orders and so he does as he's told, but nearing the end, wraps his arm around her chest and encourages her upright. "You like the poster more now?" he asks as he presses a kiss to the nape of her neck, cupping her breasts in his large warm palms.

Tipping her head back so it rests on his shoulder, her back arching deliciously, Tina gasps as her muscles begin to spasm and clench. "We can have it," she agrees. "Above the bed. Just don't stop."

One hand flat against her stomach, he presses a kiss to her cheek. "Would I?" he teases, reaching down to feather a super-soft touch against her clit, feeling as it makes her clench around him. He does it again and again until she's slick to the touch and Korean curses are tumbling from her lips and his teeth are nipping her skin and he's spilling inside of her. Then both their chests are heaving and Mike's hands travel back up to her boobs as she sucks deep breaths in, enjoying the feeling of them moving against his palms.

"You are such a boob guy," she jokes, moving away from him with care before turning in his grasp so her breasts press against his bare chest.

"Mmm…" he nods his head, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of her chest as his hands travel down her back and squeeze her ass with unexpected speed. "I'm crazy about all of you," he corrects. "From here - " he says, pressing a kiss to the middle of her forehead, " – to here." Moving quickly, he loops his hands underneath her, cradling her against his chest like a baby and managing to press a kiss to just below her knee. "And your feet and toes too," he assures. "I just can't reach."

Arms around his neck, she stays snuggled against him as he reclines so he's propped against the pillows. Her legs are thrown across his body and her head finds the crook of his neck. "You're such a dork," she says with a shake of her head, but her voice is thick with fondness and her arms squeeze tighter around him as her eyelashes flutter. "Wake me up in thirty minutes," she orders him with a vague wave of her hand, and he nods his head, nuzzling into her mussed hair.

"Sure," he promises, though moves not at all and his eyes are at half-mast too.

They sleep for three hours and don't get home from Mike's 'til after midnight, but the first thing Tina does is take the pictures from Mike's nightstand and place them on the dresser with her photos of Quinn, Puck and Beth (that was taken after Beth was born) and Kurt and Blaine dressed up for Blaine's graduation from law school. A photo of her and her parents on some white sandy beach now stands next to his own family.

"This is us," she tells him. "Our whole family."

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders he says nothing, but presses a kiss to her temple and then tugs her slowly and gently back to bed.

xXx

The day of the move is sunny and warm and has Tina running around in a pair of unfathomably short shorts as she orders people about, magic marker in one hand and a half-drunk cup of coffee in the other. "Kurt's b-boxes are marked with a blue cross, Mike's with a red. Make sure you grab the right ones," she orders to Blaine, who rolls his eyes as he picks up another box, cursing at the weight, his t-shirt pulled tight against his biceps.

"Slave driver," he mumbles under his breath as he carries the box towards the front door.

"I heard that!" Tina calls after him, opening one of Mike's red marked boxes and beginning to unpack some of the books onto shelves.

"You were meant to!"

There's a scuffle in the hall and ribald cursing and then Sam's appearing in the doorway, his cheeks flushed pink and his blonde hair mussed. "Couch?" he manages with a hastily drawn breath, one hand clutching at a stitch in his side having carried the large piece of furniture up two flights of stairs.

Jumping up from her place crouched on the floor, Tina runs over to the door, where she can see Mike and Matt still wrangling the sofa, trying to keep it balanced as their arm muscles shake and cramp.

Luckily they had already got rid of the old couch (her, Kurt, Blaine and Mike with hammers and scissors and one particularly vicious crowbar) so there's a space in the middle of the room just waiting for its replacement. She shoves a few boxes that have been left in the way to the side and nods her head. "All ready."

It takes the three men about ten minutes (and lots of swearing and cursing and threats – "Mike, if you ever move again I can tell you now I'm working. Or out of the country. Or dead") before they get it in place. As soon as it's positioned all three men flop onto it; Tina feels sympathy and gratitude well up inside her.

"Beer?" she offers, already moving towards the fridge as she is met with groans of thanks.

Mike manages to drag himself up and help her grab the bottles from the fridge. "I am _never _moving again," he tells her, twisting the top off his own and taking a long pull before tossing another one in Sam's direction.

Winding her arms around his waist – not caring that he is sweaty and warm – Tina grins up at him. "Is that a threat or a p-promise?"

Smiling, he presses a kiss to her lips that tastes of hops and salt. "Promise."

"Ugh, I gotta go splash some water on my face," Sam murmurs as he pushes himself up from the couch, his legs a little wobbly as he heads towards the bathroom. "No one drink my beer."

Matt – who is already reaching forward for the bottle – knocks out a jaunty salute. "Sure thing."

Moving away from Mike's embrace, Tina hops over the arm of the couch and kneels on one of the cushions, bouncing up and down. "It's so springy," she notes, jumping a little harder, and she doesn't understand why Matt starts laughing and covers his eyes with his free hand.

"Dude," he address Mike between his fingers. "Unless you want me to start having some inappropriate thoughts about your girl, can you tell her to stop bouncing while she's wearing that? I'm only a man."

Looking down as she bounces, Tina realises that her tank top has slipped a good inch as she tested the cushions, and the top swell of her breasts is clearly visible along with the trim of her blue polka dot bra. Pulling herself together, she can hear Mike laughing hard behind her as he disappears down the hall towards their bedroom with a stack of boxes in his arms. Reaching out she punches Matt in the shoulder. "Perv," she teases good-naturedly, and is about to go on more of a diatribe when Mercedes appears at the door.

"I was sent up for Kurt's laptop and the last box of sweaters," she tells Tina with an amused eye roll, pushing her dark hair behind her shoulder, her silver 'M' pendant swinging against her buxom chest. "Boy is fretting over getting everything in the cab."

Tina sees the way Matt's eyes light up at the sight of Mercedes, and he's up off the couch in a second, reaching out for her hand. "I don't believe we've been introduced," he starts, bending down to press a kiss to the top of her hand. "I'm Matt Rutherford."

"Mercedes Jones," she replies, polite, but with a smile on her face that tells Tina she's met plenty of guys like Matt before. "Nice to meet you."

"Definitely likewise," he says with an obvious wink, and then Mercedes is laughing and Tina is grabbing Matt by the hand and dragging him away.

"Enough you," she tells him, pushing him towards the hallway. "Mercedes, the laptop is on the side in his room and I'll grab the sweaters for you. Matt, go help Mike."

"But Tee - "

"But n-nothing. Go."

She can hear Matt's grumpy cursing as he heads off down the hall, and then Mercedes has an eyebrow raised and looks at Tina curiously. "No?"

A strand of hair keeps escaping her loose French braid, and Tina pushes it back away from her face. "I love him and he'd treat you right b-but…he'd also be treating at least two other girls right at the same time. I m-mean, he wouldn't lie about it but…I know it's n-not what you're looking for."

"Ah," Mercedes nods in understanding. "Shame." Ducking into the near-empty bedroom, she grabs the laptop bag from the window ledge and swings it over her shoulder before taking the box that Tina offers. Hoisting the box up on her hip, she leans over and kisses Tina's cheek briefly. "We'll catch up later, okay? I better get this downstairs before Kurt gives himself a conniption fit."

"You need a hand?"

The voice comes from the hall, and when Tina turns around it's to see Sam – his blonde hair dark with water as though he's just dunked his head under the tap – coming towards them. For a minute, Tina thinks he's addressing her, but then she realises his eyes are fixed on Mercedes, on her pink smiling lips and cocked curvy hip.

It seems to surprise Mercedes too, because she's pushing her hair behind her shoulder and shaking her head. "I'm okay," she assures him. "But thanks, uh…"

"Sam," he offers, reaching her side and holding his hand out for her to shake.

Shifting the box again, she holds out her own hand, allowing him to take it, bangles around her wrist clinking together melodiously with the movement. "Mercedes." As their hands touch, the box slips slightly, and Mercedes catches it again with a "Whoops!"

Laughing, Sam holds his hands out for the box. "Here," he insists, taking it from her grasp. "Let me. A gentleman never lets a lady carry heavy things."

Mercedes doesn't argue, even though the box is mostly sweaters and really not too laborious. "A gentleman, huh?"

"Yes ma'am," Sam grins back, his southern lilt seeming more obvious than usual as he quirks a smile at her. "They're waiting for it downstairs?"

Mercedes nods, and then Sam's carrying the box towards the door, and Mercedes is shooting Tina a look and Tina is just grinning wickedly in reply. Because she'd seen how both of their eyes had scanned the other's body, and settled looking each other in the eye, and Mercedes smiles coyly as she follows Sam out of the door, making a silent, universally understood 'call me' sign back towards her friend.

Alone, Tina's still giggling s she flops back on the sofa, staring up at ceiling for a moment, testing the feel of the new cushions under her back. She's just closed her eyes momentarily – lashes fluttering against her cheeks – when she feels a figure looming over her.

"Aren't you meant to be working?"

Her eyes flicker open and she sees Mike's smiling face above her. His hair is spiked up and his tank top sticking to his chest, jeans resting low on his hips and amused smile on his face.

"I'm soaking in the m-moment," she tells him, raising herself up on her elbows, not caring that her tank slips off her shoulder and down her chest again. She shifts her hips so Mike can sit down on the couch next to her, and he's grinning as he leans down, tasting the skin right above the polka-dot trim of her bra, his tongue darting out and his teeth nibbling. "Is everything up?"

"My stuff up, Kurt's stuff down. He and Blaine got it all in the cab and they says they'll call us later to meet at Plato's after they've done some unpacking."

"Awesome," Tina grins, winding her arms around his neck. "What could we do until then?"

Mike's just pressed his lips against hers when there is a sound of gentle coughing from behind them. When Tina breaks away, she sees Mercedes, Sam and Matt staring at them, amused – and unsurprised – smiles on their faces.

"You two do know we're still here, right?"

xXx


	14. Chapter 14

Big thanks to everyone who's waited patiently for the newest section. I'm sorry it's been a long time coming! There's plenty more written already, I promise, so don't worry – you'll catch up soon!

Big thanks as always go to everyone who has read and reviewed, and as always to my lovely supportive PJ and lastly my unfailing puzzle piece, ML. I loves you!

Comments, crit and reviews always appreciated.

xXx

"What should I wear?"

Tina's sweeping mascara across her lashes but still manages an eye roll as she stands in her heavy black boots, black chain-clad skirt and lavender bra. "Clothes, Michael," she tells him simply, reaching across to grab her white t-shirt from the end of the bed. Shucking it on over her shoulders she allows him a moment to stare down the simple v before snapping her fingers to bring him back to the conversation at hand. "It's not a fashion show, it's a protest."

Groaning, Mike sinks onto the edge of the bed. "I know I just…I don't want to embarrass you," he tells her, looking shy all of a sudden.

Letting a little giggle slip from her lips, Tina bends down and places a sympathetic kiss to his cheek. "I was fine at your giant hospital b-benefit, you'll be fine at one simple p-protest." Then reaching into the chest of drawers, she pulls out a pair of dark jeans, tossing them towards him, and a simple grey t-shirt. "I'm sure you can handle the rest?" she teases.

Ducking back into the bathroom Tina's brushing her teeth – loaded toothbrush between unglossed lips – when her phone buzzes on the nightstand. Hopping on one foot as he tugs on his jeans, Mike leans over and grabs it. "Tina," he calls to her, "message." Glancing down at the screen, he pops his head through the door as she's rinsing out her mouth with the cool water. "Tee?" he says again. "Message. It's Quinn."

Taking the phone, Tina wipes her mouth with the back of her wrist and flicks her finger on the screen, reading the little type as she walks back into the bedroom. "She says she and Puck'll meet us at the noodle bar by St Marks and we'll head down from there. There are m-meant to be some fantastic speakers." Digging in a drawer, she unearths two leather cuffs and straps them on her wrists. "Just in case," she teases him with a wink. "No ER visits today."

He makes her pancakes – telling her off every time her fingers dart into the bag of chocolate chips but then kissing the sweet bitter taste from her lips – and her legs swing as she sits on the counter next to him. "It won't be a big one today," she assures him, letting him feed her a slice of apple as he cuts them up to garnish the plates. "But just k-keep close to me or Quinn or Puck, okay?"

Moving the two plates to the table, he helps her down – unnecessarily – from the counter with his hands firm and warm on her waist. "Like glue," he assures her, knowing that assurance is what she needs; she worries her bottom lip between her teeth. "Now eat your pancakes."

She grins, feeling spoiled, feeling loved, and does as she's told.

As they walk down town, their fingers laced, Tina keeps up a rambling exposition. "The Planned Parenthood place is a block over from an Elementary school. Somehow p-people have got it in their head that this m-means young girls are being encouraged into having lots of pre-marital, unsafe sex and then g-go and get their pregnancies terminated. Murdering babies, you know? So there's a p-protest against the Clinic. We're going down in support."

"So we're protesting the protestors?" Mike clarifies, pushing his sunglasses up his nose as the Spring light bounces off the gleaming windows of the buildings they pass.

Looking up at him, Tina smiles almost sadly. "Yeah." There's a pause as she watches a mother cross the street with two daughters; each firmly held in hand, matching pigtails bobbing around childish heads. "You know the girls from class heard I was d-doing this today. They w-wanted so much to come I had to practically order them to school instead."

Smiling, Mike squeezes her hand. "They're socially conscious kids."

"Yeah," Tina nods her head thoughtfully as they wait for the walk signal to kick in. "And they have strong feelings about a woman's power over her b-body." She shrugs her shoulders, letting Mike tug her hand slightly as they begin to walk again. "Chantel was reading on her phone about it and almost k-kicked off when she heard that this group d-doesn't even support abortions after rape." Tina shivers then, even though the day is unusually warm, and has to stop for a moment as though to collect herself.

"Hey," Mike starts when he sees tears begin to eek from Tina's lashes. "You okay?"

They're stopping in the middle of the sidewalk with people ebbing around them, and his hand reaches up to cup her cheek, wiping the escaping moisture away with the pad of his thumb. Taking in a deep, hiccupping breath, Tina quirks a sad smile and ducks away from his touch long enough that she can scrub at her cheeks with her jacket sleeve. "Yeah," she assures him, sniffling and nodding her head, only looking back up to meet his gaze when she's sure the tears have stopped. "Just…these p-people are _wrong, _Mike. I mean, how can they think…don't they understand what that k-kind of assault does to a p-person?"

"No, they don't," he tells her, rubbing his hands up and down her arms, a frown pinching his face. "Tee, they don't know your girls and they don't see the women I see coming into the ER. They don't see the real people that this affects – what difference having _options _makes afterwards. The feeling of power they get back."

Sniffing hard, Tina reaches out for his hand again and they pick up walking, pace considerably slowed. "You know I'm n-not just upset for the girls," she starts, and her voice is very low and gravely and almost inaudible.

"I know," he tells her. "This is about a lot of people. That's why we're going, right?"

She looks up at him then and while her mouth parts as though she's about to say something else, the words seem to leave her and she just breathes in deeply, nodding her head. "Yeah," she agrees. "That's why we're going."

xXx

When they get to the noodle bar Quinn and Puck are waiting outside, empty bowls in front of them and Quinn's hair bright in the sunshine. Puck's holding Beth in his lap; pinching noodles between her chubby thumb and finger she attempts to bring them to her mouth though most end up splattering the sidewalk below.

"I like the purple," Quinn says by way of greeting as she folds Tina into her arms, tugging on one of the pinned in violet strands of her hair. Pulling back, she looks Tina in the face. "You ready for today?"

"Absolutely," Tina affirms, leaning down to press a quick kiss to Puck's cheek before lifting up her goddaughter with a grin. "Hi Beth," she greets as the little girl lights up at the sight of her.

"Nee!"

Tina straightens the little white mouse hat that sits atop Beth's blonde curls and presses a kiss to the tip of her nose, making the little girl laugh. Quinn watches on, an amused – and slightly knowing – smile on her face.

"She's coming with us?" Mike asks curiously as Puck gets to his feet, tucking enough money under a glass to cover the bill. Strapping a large sturdy carrier on his back, he waits until Tina has deposited Beth in it before securing the strap around his waist.

"She's been protesting since she was five months old," Puck says proudly, reaching behind to tickle the little girl's feet. "And this is an important one for her to be at."

"Part of the 'Awesome women and the men who love them' club?" Mike suggests with grin as they all begin walking again, and it's enough that Puck laughs, clapping him on the shoulder.

"Yeah, you're our newest member," he jokes, "come see me later, we'll get you your jacket."

As they approach the site of the protest, Mike can hear it before he even gets close to seeing it; car horns blaring, the sound of muffled voices through megaphones, shouting and heavy footsteps. Even as he's tickling Beth to make her laugh, he's amazed that she looks so calm; the street is getting busier and people are packing tighter them the nearer they get to their destination, bodies pressing against bodies – he loses sight of Tina for a second when she and Quinn break off to hug a guy with dreadlocks.

"Mike, Joe, Joe, Mike," Quinn is calling over the crowd noise, pointing between the two men and Mike's barely had time to nod his head in acknowledgement before the dreadlocked guy is pulling the two women through the crowd; Mike catches about every fifth word that they say. Something about crowd numbers and the police, and it's then that Mike glances over the top of the mass and catches sight of the thirty or so police officers in full riot gear making a physical barrier between the protesters outside the Family Planning Clinic and the protestors protesting their protest.

He's staring when he feels a hand on his arm. Puck still has Beth on his back – she's merrily waving at the people around them as though this is all a great party – but his touch is warm and strong on Mike's shoulder. "Tear gas," he explains, pointing to the first half of the police force, "and rubber bullets." His voice is matter of fact and it makes Mike have to double take because wow, yeah, okay, he hadn't noticed the large weaponry strapped across their bodies.

"Rubber bullets?" he echoes faintly, and can feel his stomach flip. He picks up his pace slightly until he is at Tina's side again; she and Quinn and Joe the dreadlocked guy have met up with a smaller man – not much taller than Quinn – with a broad Irish accent and clutching a clipboard as he points through the crowds.

"What's the craic, ladies? Looks like numbers are bigger than we expected – apparently their sister group got bussed in from Jersey, more's the pity."

"So where do you want us?" Quinn's shouting over the din, her pink streaked hair getting mussed in the wind and she holds it back in a fisted grasp. She looks between Puck, Mike and Tina and the two girls share a tacit split-second conversation as the other men look on.

Rory – apparently the Irish guy is called Rory – points them up towards the front of the melee. "Not to be superficial but you gals should get to the front. We got cameras around and you're more likely to get play than Hairy Helen or the guy with the giant middle finger on his t-shirt." Waving his hand towards the masses, he hears his name being called and starts moving away from them. "Feck, I'll catch you guys later, right? Stay safe!" And with that, he disappears into the crowd.

Joe goes ahead of their little group, and Mike moves up as Quinn falls back to talk with Puck, her hand coming up to smooth Beth's curls as the little girl babbles from her carrier. Mike, on the other hand, is staring all around trying to take in the volume of different people and all the signs and shouted slogans when he feels a small hand press into his. "You okay?" Tina asks, her voice raised over the noise and her fingers squeezing tightly.

He's nodding his head before he realises and she looks proud of him as they work their way through the crowd. "Just loud," he admits, because while he's seen protests on tv he's never been in the middle of one like this. Lifting his free hand, he rubs at his ear, hoping the ringing will go away. "Are we going somewhere?"

"The front!" Tina explains as Quinn and Puck pass them and Beth calls merrily for Tina as she wiggles her hands. "Get an idea of what we're f-facing off against."

Mike's happy that Tina's hand stays in his as they squeeze through the crowds. At one point the guy with dreadlocks branches off (and Mike didn't miss the way Puck's eyes narrow as he leans down and presses a kiss against Quinn's cheek) and then it's just the four of them again. Placards wave around and Mike has to duck under a particularly low-hanging one before he gets another one to the back of the head and curses loud enough for Tina to hear over the yells. Laughing, she leans up and presses her lips against his cheek.

"I thought we said we'd be c-careful today?" she teases, tugging him so he walks closer alongside her.

The crowd is busy and dense but they end up in a position near the front of the barricade. Here the police presence is thicker and he comes face to face with the first lot of people doing the _initial _protesting across the street. On their placards he sees pictures of dead foetuses and one of them carries a large doll with a knife stuck through its chest. The stark image is enough to make Mike recoil, but then Tina's eyes follow his and she's squeezing his wrist. "Don't let them g-get to you," she tells him. "You're a d-doctor. You know that isn't how it w-works."

For the next thirty minutes as they move around the crowd there are words being spat at them, and while he can't make all of them out he can tell from the faces of the people saying them that they're not kind. Tina – who clearly has better hearing than he does or is just more used to the noise than he is – flinches at a couple of them and Mike can hear Puck yelling things back that are _definitely _not polite but he feels like doing the same thing because how dare they yell that kind of thing at Tina? And Quinn? Who they don't know at all?

He wonders if these protesters even know real women and can imagine what they would do if something happened to them. He can't help but think of Santana and Brittany – women he thinks of as family – and about Tina, and what he would do, how he would _feel _if they were denied the right to access the medical help if they needed it. If the protestors are so worried about the Clinic being by an Elementary school, shouldn't they simply be thinking about _educating _the young women there? Teaching them how to make good choices? And how to be in control of their bodies and their lives?

A bitter taste washes over his tongue; he recognises it as adrenalin.

An hour in Mike sees a new wave of media vans driving up, and the crowd surges with their arrival. He finds himself getting pushed back slightly and loses Tina's hand in the crowd, but he can still hear her voice – and Quinn's – shouting so he doesn't worry too much. There are still vicious words being thrown around and he's just heard a particularly crass insult – one he wouldn't _ever _say and can't believe it would come out of the mouth of someone claiming to be _religious – _and it makes his blood boil.

"Hey doc," Puck's suddenly up next to him, swinging Beth off his back and holding her carrier out. "You hold her for me for a minute?"

Mike finds Beth in his arms, her happy chubby face staring up at him and her cheezit stained fingers grasping at the front of his t-shirt. "Sure," he agrees, shifting Beth more securely against his chest, not wanting her to get barged in the crowd. "Why?"

"Need to go punch this son of a bitch," Puck says simply, and is just about to plough through the barrier, the line of cops separating the two sides and towards the bad-mouthed protester when Rory appears from nowhere (as though perhaps this isn't the most unusual of occurrences) and throws himself in front of the mohawked, taller man, holding him back.

"Quinn!" Rory calls out, his accent brash as he shouts. "Need to sort out yer man!"

The blonde snakes out from under the arm of a woman in a bright red tank top and takes Rory's place, but her grip isn't half as strong. Instead, she just reaches up and cups Puck's cheek. "Don't you even think about it Noah," she orders in a no-nonsense tone.

"Yeah!" Tina pipes up, and it's then that Mike finally relocates her, jumping up and down on the balls of her feet, her fist pumping in the air about six people over. "Rachel's in c-court today and can't come bail us out!"

It seems to cool Puck down enough that he just shakes his head, jaw clenched, and then throws some choice insults back at the man in question. Mike's pretty sure that some of them are in Hebrew; either that or he's either deafer than he thought or just not up-to-date on today's insulting lingo. Instead of thinking too hard about it, Mike just holds Beth a fraction closer to his chest and she seems happy to go; smacking his shoulder she babbles freely, pointing around the area and squawks with delight when Mike presses a kiss to the top of her head. "My!" she addresses him, and Mike is briefly amazed that she's said his name when suddenly the crowd heaves and the guy in front of him falls to his knees and then all that is on his mind is not dropping the baby and where is Tina because people have started yelling louder and their footsteps have become more frenetic.

"Quinn!" he hears Puck's voice over the crowd, but he's lost sight of the other man. In fact, he can no longer see any of the people he knows; instead it is just a crowd of nameless, faceless people and he doesn't know whether to move – to try and find Tina – or to stay still and in places, like a lost child at the mall. He hears slurs being thrown and wow, he hadn't realised there were so many synonyms for the word whore, but he just keeps Beth tucked into his chest and one hand over her ears – as though to protect her from the hateful vitriol.

Luckily, the decision over what to do next is made for him when a head of pink hair appears under the sea of waving arms. "Mike!" Quinn yells, and the look of relief that breaks over her face when she sees him with Beth is indescribable. "We need to move back!" she tells him. "It's getting really crazy up there!"

Still holding Beth, he follows Quinn as she makes a path through the crowd. "Where's Tina?" he calls at her back, because he hasn't seen her purple-streaked hair anywhere and all he can think of is the first time he met her after a protest – bruised and broken and bleeding.

"She's with Jacob Ben Israel, filming some footage of the protests," Quinn calls back. "A human face to put on the issue – but don't worry, Joe's with them! And I saw Puck up ahead but he didn't have Beth."

"He gave her to me," Mike explains needlessly, and is relieved when the crowd starts thinning as they reach the back of the melee. He's even more relieved when they get to an empty alleyway and Quinn reaches out for her daughter, holding her tightly against her chest.

"Hey baby," she greets with a murmur, and it makes something in Mike's chest tighten – the sheer joy, he thinks, of a mother being reunited with her child.

"Quinn!" Puck's voice is loud in their little oasis of quiet and tinged deeply with worry and Quinn answers automatically.

"We're here!" she calls back, and Mike can hear Puck break into a short run before appearing before them. There's a split second before his arms are around his wife and his daughter, and he's pressing a kiss to Quinn's lips. "I'm fine," she assures him, words mumbled against his mouth, shifting Beth more securely on her hip. "We're okay."

Mike feels bad, but since Beth's been returned safely to her parents he can't help but turn back to his initial concern, so he interrupts. "Have you seen Tina?"

Puck nods his head and it's enough to make Mike's heart swell with relief. "She's just finishing up with JBI," he tells Mike. "Teen Jesus is gonna bring her back." The name is said with a bit of a snarl, but after a cutting look from Quinn, Puck raises his hands in a placatory gesture. Taking a deep breath, he reaches out and grasps Mike's upper arm. "Look, bro, thanks for taking care of my little Puckasaurus for me."

There's a loud burst of shouting from the crowd and all three heads snap back towards the sound. "I should go back in there," Quinn says softly, passing Beth over to Puck, who cradles her against his chest, but she reaches out to grasp her mother's hair and whimpers softly.

"She wants you, Q," Puck says softly, shifting Beth up to his shoulder where she continues to sniffle and repeat her babble of 'mamamama'.

The crowd surges again and instead of Quinn moving it has Mike stepping forward. The word "Tina" has barely left his lips before he starts to move and is almost going to break into a run when a guy with a comically large Jew-fro breaks through the back of the crowd, along with the most beautiful sight he's ever seen. "Tee!" he greets her with relief, wrapping her up in his arms and not even noticing how the guy with the dreadlocks has followed her out and is now talking with Quinn.

"Rory t-told us to fall back," Tina admits against Mike's chest, wrapping her arm around his waist as they approach the rest of the group. "Someone said something about a g-guy with a gun and we all pretty much ran – everyone's splitting on both sides and he said we should too. He's up there giving his statement to the police."

The words are enough to make Mike's heart freeze and he presses a kiss to the top of her head, a volley of curses running through his mind and his eyes squeezed shut. "So what now?" he asks, praying they aren't going to suggest going back despite the scattering crowd, because he's not sure his nerves can take it. Instead, sheer relief washes over him as he hears Puck's next words.

"We go to the bar," he tells him, "and we get very, very drunk."

xXx

When Mike flops down on the couch his head is fuzzy and his skin is pleasantly warm. His ears still have a slight ring to them but the earlier terror has left him, leaving him with just a faint shudder every now and then when he thinks about the protest, and an urge to keep Tina within arm's distance at all times. On that note, he reaches out as she walks past and tugs her until she is laying on him, her arms folded atop his chest and her chin propped on top.

Her bare feet wiggle so they're resting between his socked ones. "You okay?" she asks, cocking her head and leaning into his touch as he runs his fingers through her hair. "I know today wasn't quite what you w-were expecting."

"Is that always how it ends?" he asks earnestly, staring up at the ceiling so she can't see the worry so clearly in his face. He knows she can hear it though, because she wriggles up higher on his body and presses a kiss below his ear.

"No," she assures him, her lips a millimetre away from his stubble-rough skin. "Sometimes, but not always. Today got a b-bit out of hand." She shrugs slightly, and goes to lift herself off of him, but his arms wrap tighter around her body and he buries his face in her hair.

"Don't go," he pleads with her. "Want you with me."

She lets him hold her for a minute, but then rubs his arm. "C'mon," she tells him. "Mike. I need to like, b-breathe." It's said with a little laugh, but makes him relax his arms, and then she pulls them both upright so they're sitting face to face. "Quinn and I are always careful at protests, but the thing is…it's a mass of p-people. And people are the m-most unpredictable thing in the universe." Leaning forward, she cups his face in both her hands and lays a long, warm and reassuring kiss against his lips.

When she pulls back, he sighs, softly. "I wish I could ask you never to go again."

"I know."

"I won't but…can I just ask…could you do something for me?"

Standing up, Tina stretches her arms above her head and Mike watches as her shirt rises slightly and shows of a sliver of her bare skin. "Of course."

"If you know it's going to be dangerous…if you know you're likely to get hurt…please don't go." Leaning forward, he holds her hips, resting his forehead against her stomach. "I know there are gonna be times when things happen but…if you _know _beforehand_…_please."

There must be something in his voice – some trace of honesty or desperation or the fact that his face is pressed into her – because Tina just stares at him for a moment before nodding her head. "I'll try." It's all she promises, but it seems enough. Mike lets out a breath he didn't even realise he'd been holding and tilts his head so he's kissing the skin above her waistband.

"Thank you."

Tina has a vague memory surface then, of Kurt sitting next to her in this very room and telling her that Mike loved her and couldn't cope if anything happened to her. She has to duck her chin to hide a small smile because somehow it's funny how these things happen.

Tina pulls her t-shirt away from her neck, and wrinkles her nose. "I n-need a shower," she says softly. "And so do you. Protesting is dirty work." Holding his hand, she's just dragging him down the hallway when she hears her phone ring in the kitchen and gives him a slight shove towards the bathroom. "Get started without me," she tells him. "This'll only t-take a minute."

Mike does as he's told; he's stripped off his clothes and dumped them in the hamper, and is just getting the water set to the right temperature when the door opens and closes and a pair of arms slide around his naked body. "Quinn?" he guesses, turning around and helping Tina pull her t-shirt over her head.

"Mmmhmm," Tina answers in the affirmative. "She said she's sorry she and Puck had to leave the bar early but she really thought he m-might punch Joe."

"No love lost there?" Mike asks, unzipping Tina's skirt and sliding it down her legs, watching her unhook her bra and throw it in the sink before kicking off her underwear, letting him grab her around the waist and pull her under the pelting shower spray.

Picking up her shampoo, Tina pours some into Mike's hands and turns around so he can massage it into her hair. "Quinn slept with Joe like a m-month before she and Puck got serious. And Puck doesn't share w-well. Especially with people he knows has seen his wife n-naked."

"Ah," Mike acknowledges, running his fingers gently over her scalp until she melts back into his chest and begins to almost purr. "Well, I can understand that."

"Plenty of p-people who've seen me naked in this city Mike," Tina reminds with a laugh, but it's the truth and she knows he needs to hear it.

"Doesn't mean I can't be jealous."

"You shouldn't be. It's not like you thought I was a virgin when we met."

They both laugh at that as Mike lets her turn around in his grip and rub shampoo into his own hair. Suds drip down his forehead as he smiles at her. "No, you definitely weren't that…but I'm just saying, I know how Puck feels. If I thought you'd slept with…I don't know, that video kid or what was his name? Rory? I would feel weird about you hanging around with them every day."

Leaning back and rinsing the soap out of her hair, Tina raises an eyebrow. "You don't seem to care than I hang out with Quinn most days."

There's a moment of silence, Mike gold fishing, before Tina laughs and lets him off. "I'm joking," she says matter-of-factly. "But you shouldn't have such heteronormative assumptions Michael."

Letting go of a breath, Mike strokes her sopping wet hair back from her face. "I'm sorry," he tells her, pressing a kiss to her naked shoulder. "I'd like to amend my statement to say I would be jealous of any guy or girl you had slept with if they were still hanging around you and acting like they weren't over you. You're mine."

Lifting her chin, she shakes her head and smiles at him. "I am. And you're m-mine."

"Yep."

Picking up a bottle, Tina squeezes yellow gel into her hands and begins rubbing it over Mike's chest. It smells like citrus fruit and clean sheets and they both breathe in deeply, taking in the familiar scent. "Thank you for c-coming with me today," Tina tells him, running her hands over his biceps and down his forearms. She tangles their soapy hands together.

"Thank you for trusting me enough to let me," he replies, letting one hand go and bringing it up to cup her breast. "It meant a lot to me."

"Mmm," she responds as his thumb trails over her pink-tipped nipple. Her back arches into him. "I trust you to d-do everything with me," she grins, bringing their hips together.

One eyebrow arched, Mike quirks a grin. It's laced through with desire. "Reeeally?" he asks, trailing his hands down to wrap around her wrists. Grasp gentle, he captures her hands above her head, pressing her against the tiles. "I know last time we talked about it you said you were more comfortable being the ti_er_ than the tie_ee_, but that was when we were first together and I understand if you don't want to…" He rambles slightly even as his lips travel down her neck. For a moment he can feel her body tremble, and he lets go immediately. "Tee?"

Naked, wet hair down and stuck around her face, Tina looks small and vulnerable and is staring down at her wrists like they somehow belong to someone else. Mike's about to shut off the water – because honestly, her silence is freaking him out – when she stretches out her arm and puts it back in Mike's grasp. "I w-want you to," she says slowly, taking a deep breath in and out.

"Are you sure?" Her response is a surprise, and Mike emotions flicker between utterly concerned and completely turned on and either way he's not feeling as level headed as normal, but Tina just nods her head.

"You love me," she says softly, and it's more of a statement than a question, but Mike answers anyways.

"I really really do."

"Okay," she says, and it's like it prompts her to move because she sticks her face right under the showerhead and lets water rain onto her face. He can see the muscles in her back are tense but she sounds resolute.

He gets out of the shower first and holds out her towel for her, and when she steps into it he can feel how taut her body is. "You can change your mind," he promises. "Tee, It's okay."

Letting him pat her dry, she shakes her head. "No, I w-want to share this with you," she insists but her brow is knitted in a frown that makes her looks like she's thinking about how to divide imaginary numbers.

Letting out a sigh, he follows her into the bedroom as she unwraps the towel from her body and uses it to rub at her hair, combing through with her fingers. He's about to call time – because there's clearly something that isn't quite okay about this – when Tina drops the towel in her wake and is suddenly in his arms, naked still-slick body pressed against his and her arms wrapped around his neck. "Tie me up," she tells him, her voice barely above a murmur, her fingers twirling in the hair at the nape of his neck and her lips ghosting his sensitive earlobe. "Do it."

He knows part of the brazen attitude is a front, but he goes with it nonetheless. Hands sliding under her legs, he picks her up so she's wrapped around his waist, carrying her until she's close enough to dump on the mattress. Crawling up her body, he presses kisses to the hollow of her hip, the dip of her belly button, the shadow of her ribs and the swell of her breast before reaching her mouth. He kisses her there – hands trailing up her body and again wrapping around her wrists as they rest above her on the pillows – until they are both breathless. "You're sure?" he asks again, wanting to be sure, wanting to _know _that she's okay with this, but despite Tina's shoulders still being tense, she nods her head resolutely.

In their drawers, Mike searches through until he finds the softest, oldest ties he can find. One is his own but he doesn't recognise the second; it's blue and red striped and feels like it's been through the wash way more than normal ties. Still, he just shrugs his shoulders at its appearance and returns to the bed, lifting first one hand towards the headboard, and then the other.

"I'm going to do them loose," he promises as he wraps the material first around her wrist and then around the skinny wooden slats. "So you can get out of them any time you want okay? And tell me if you want to stop." She swallows thickly as she nods, but lifts her other hand up to join the first. When he's done tying, Mike leans back on his heels. "Do they feel okay?"

Tugging and twisting gently, so she can feel the give and pull of the material, Tina nods her head slowly. Her body still looks a bit tense, so he stretches out next to her, his hand coming up to cup the back of her head, tangling in her damp hair. Leaning in, he kisses her soundly until he can feel her relax against him, her lips pressing back against his. Wiggling a leg between hers, he eases her knees apart, running his hand up and down her inner thigh. He keeps the touch gentle and soft, but still slightly teasing, always stopping short of the top until she finally, _finally, _breaks into a smile.

"Are you j-just going to t-tease?" she asks, arching her back as he kisses the side of her neck, keeping pressed against her so she can feel him close.

"Maybe…"

She twists her hips then, tugging slightly on the ties, and goose bumps break over her skin. Squeezing her eyes shut for a moment she swallows thickly and whispers his name, almost pleading.

"Tee?"

Deep breath, she opens her eyes, locking on his. "Can you k-kiss me please?" she asks, and it's such a simple request he has to acquiesce. He kisses her lips, then her cheeks, her eyelids, down her neck, down her sternum, one on each nipple, across her hips until she's giggling. Leaning down between her legs, he kisses her there until she's wet and writhing. He keeps up a running conversation as he does – not about anything important, just telling her how special she is, how hot and how amazing – but it keeps her muscles relaxed until he _wants _them to tense. Then he calls her beautiful and flickers his tongue and she _is _pulling hard against her bonds so he crawls up her body, kissing her with her own taste still on his lips.

He slides into her slowly, holding his weight on his knees and one elbow, reaching up to tangle the other hand with hers at the headboard. "Okay?" he asks, though it's more of a pant because keeping things slow and steady is almost painful; he's been imagining this for a long time and he wants her to enjoy it as much as he is.

"Mmhmm," she replies, biting her bottom lip. Hooking one leg around his back, a small mewl escapes from her lips as a flush colours her chest and cheeks.

Mike's head rests on her shoulder, hands reaching up to cup her breasts, thumbs sweeping over her nipples as he thrusts into her harder. Their bodies pressed together, they slide against each other, both of them murmuring words of encouragement and adoration and before he knows it – before he's even had time to check whether Tina's close – Mike's coming hard, spilling into her. His teeth bite down on her shoulder making her gasp.

"Sorry," he manages, trying to catch his breath, kissing the mark he's just left, lathing it with his tongue. "Are you okay?"

Tina's still breathing hard too, but nods her head. Licking her lips, she shifts slightly beneath him. "Could you m-maybe untie me now?" she asks, but it's calm and said with a wiggle of her fingers that makes him laugh.

Reaching up, he helps her slide her hands out of the knotted ties, and then wraps his arms around her as she tangles her fingers in his hair. They kiss, slowly, warmly, Mike's large hands rubbing up and down her back before easing her down against the pillows. Lying next to her, he brushes her hair back from her cheek. "I'm sorry."

Looking at him curiously, their noses only an inch or two apart, Tina asks curiously, "Why are you sorry?"

Shrugging his shoulders, Mike doesn't break eye contact, but says honestly, "I could tell it wasn't the best for you."

"Mike - "

"Tina," he cuts in, almost laughing. "I know you. I've been having sex with you for long enough to know when you're not 100% with me." The words are direct but he softens them with a sweep of his thumb against her cheekbone. "Are you okay?"

Tina stares at him for a long time before leaning over, pressing her lips hard against his, eyes screwed shut. Her hands clutch at his biceps. "It's just new," she assures him, "and different. And after kind of a f-full on day." A smile tickles the edges of her mouth, and she bites at her bottom lip as she squeezes his arm. "I promise it's no c-comment on your prowess."

Letting her shift around in his arms until he's spooning her back, Mike presses a kiss to her bare shoulder. "And you're sure you're okay?"

"Just tired," she promises him, tugging his arms around her as she roots further into the pillow, her still slightly damp hair curling down her back.

His arms settle around her, one hand flat against her stomach and the other curling over her chest and resting lightly on her upper arm. Closing his eyes, he breathes in the fresh citrus of her hair mixed with the warm scent of her skin. "I love you Tina. Sweet dreams, okay?"

Picking up his hand, she presses a kiss to the centre of his palm. "You too."

xXx

The Sesame Street theme song is playing loudly as Tina lets herself into Quinn and Puck's apartment, having been buzzed up from the street. When she gets in she can see Beth holding onto the edge of the coffee table, jumping up and down in time with the Muppets, wearing only a diaper and a smile on her face.

"Quinn?" Tina calls out, setting her bags down by the door and shucking off her jacket, hanging on the over-full coat pegs.

"In here!" The voice comes from the bathroom, and when Tina pops her head in, Quinn is leaning over the sink wearing only her bra and jeans, her hair soaking wet and water dripping from her face and arms. "Lunch disaster," she laughs, picking up a towel and using it to dry off her face, chest and arms.

"The p-peaches again?" Tina guesses with a wry smile. "You know she h-hates them."

"We had one jar left!" Coming out of the bathroom, Quinn finally leans into Tina, pressing a kiss against her cheek. "Hi, by the way. Thanks for coming to lunch today instead of going out."

"No problem. You said she's got a cold?"

At the words, both women look over to where Beth is dancing, her arms above her head and her round toddler's stomach sticking out. Her nose is slightly pink, but she giggles at the screen. "I'm probably being ridiculous," Quinn admits, grabbing another t-shirt from the laundry pile and pulling it over her head. "But I figured this way if she gets worse I can just put her to bed instead of having to drag her across town."

Going back to the front door, Tina picks up the paper sack she had carried up, and places it on the breakfast bar. "I got Katz's," she admits with a grin at Quinn's appreciative groan.

"The corned beef?"

Ruffling her hand through her wet hair, Quinn edges close to Tina's side as she begins pulling out the wrapped sandwiches. "C-corned beef for you, Reuban for me," Tina says, causing Quinn to wrap her arms around her and squeeze tightly.

"You know me too well!" she grins, reaching into the cupboards to get plates before pulling two iced teas out of the fridge. "God, do you remember how many of these I ate when I was pregnant?" Taking the plates, drinks and sandwiches, the two women drop onto the couch behind still-bouncing Beth, Tina sitting cross-legged and Quinn propping her heels on the coffee table.

"I thought Beth might actually be born part c-cow," Tina teases, taking a bite of her sandwich and cursing as Russian dressing drips down her chin. Reaching out for a paper napkin, she dabs at her face and licks her thumb, thankful that she has known Quinn long enough that she has no hesitation eating like a caveman around her. "And even then, I was okay until you started p-putting grape jelly with it."

Leaning her head back on the couch, Quinn laughs brightly, patting her now-flat stomach. "It was sooo good," she admits with a smile, before reaching out and poking Tina in the side with her finger. "Besides, I'll be the one laughing when you're pregnant and sending Mike out at 3 in the morning for like, churros and salsa verde."

Wrinkling her nose, Tina pulls a piece of corned beef from between her slices of bread and offers it to Beth who's now paying far more attention to the two women eating than the bright Muppets on the screen. Beth takes it and shoves it in her mouth with a look of glee. "That's really gross," Tina tells Quinn as she watches the other woman offer half her pickle to the little girl. "Seriously, why d-did you have to put that flavour combination in my m-mind."

Quinn takes a swig of her tea and grins widely showing her perfect white teeth. "Because I'm your friend and it's my job to prepare you for these things."

"Well thanks."

There's silence for a while as the two women work at their sandwiches, occasionally being transfixed by the bright colours on the screen or Beth's semi-constant chatter. Only when Tina is reaching forward for her drink and the cuff of her sweater rides up is their lunch interrupted by the sound of choking and a single curse word.

"Fuck!" Quinn coughs, reaching simultaneously for her drink and for Tina's arm. Taking a long pull of iced tea, she manages to drag in a breath before asking, "What the hell happened to you?"

This time it's Tina's turn to cough as she pulls her arm back towards her body, but she knows what it is Quinn's eyes caught sight of; her wrists are ringed red and slightly purple and she knows her face must flush furiously because her cheeks burn. "Nothing," is her immediate response, like she's been caught doing something she shouldn't, but off of Quinn's pained concern, she clarifies. "Mike and I…tried seeing how I would feel…you know, tied up."

"When?"

"A couple n-nights ago. After the protest."

"_And?"_

"And nothing." Sticking her thumb in her mouth to suck off some melted Swiss cheese, Tina just shrugs her shoulders gently. "It was okay." Settling her plate aside, she lifts up Beth from where she's dancing on the floor and brings her to her lap, starting a game of pat-a-cake.

Quinn watches her for a moment before setting her own sandwich aside. "It was okay," she echoes.

"Yeah."

Sighing deeply, Quinn reaches out and takes her daughter – who squawks at the sudden removal from her game – and places her back down on the floor where her teddy and play mat are set out. Beth quickly forgets her previous game and goes to her toys in an instant, and it allows Quinn to stretch out and take Tina's hand in her own. "Tina," she begins gently, "this is me. Did you _want _to do it?"

There's a pause, and then Tina's nodding her head. "Yeah, I d-did," she assures Quinn firmly. "It's something Mike r-really wanted and I f-felt ready to try it. And I promise," she says, scooting closer to the other woman and resting her head on her shoulder, "he was really g-good. Patient. Gentle."

"But it was only okay?"

Burying her face against Quinn's soft t-shirt, Tina shrugs her shoulders. "It'll t-take time I guess," is her answer. Then lifting her head up, she murmurs almost proudly, "but I did it."

Smiling, Quinn presses a kiss to Tina's temple. "Yes you did." Then, taking Tina's bruised wrist in her own hand, she tsks with a light laugh. "You know you really need some arnica on these. Twice a day'll help the bruising." Getting up, she wanders back into the bathroom and then returns with a small white tube of cream.

Taking it, Tina nods, biting her lip gently and keeping her head down. "Thank you."

Studying her for a moment, Quinn finds herself frowning at Tina's hunched shoulders. "Tina," she begins. "Do you think I'm mad at you?"

Tina shakes her head vehemently and swallows thickly. "No. I just feel…k-kind of ashamed."

"Because you let Mike tie you up?"

Slowly, Tina nods, causing Quinn to exhale hard and throw herself onto the sofa and wrapping her up in a strong, maternal hug. "You have done nothing wrong. You love Mike and Mike loves you and whatever the two of you do together is fine, as long as you're both okay with it. That's what you tell the girls, isn't it?"

There's a watery chuckle as Tina nods her head. "Yeah, it is." Reaching up, she pinches the bridge of her nose hard. "I guess I j-just…in my head for a l-long time I've thought of it as something I d-don't want. Something I d-don't like. So it's weird to try and m-move it over, you know? I mean, it wasn't b-bad…it was just…strange."

Pulling Tina's legs over her own lap, Quinn narrows her eyes, apparently deep in thought. "You are an amazing, strong woman," she says simply, making Tina laugh again as a blush colours her cheeks. "You _are_ Tina. And you have so much love in your heart. You and Mike are happy together – I can see how happy he makes you – so you'll figure this out." Patting Tina's fishnet-clad knee, she nods her head with fervour. "I'm sure of it. And I'm here in the meantime, okay?"

Sniffing lightly, Tina reaches out and takes a bite of her pickle. "Thank you," she says around the mouthful, and Quinn just shrugs her shoulders as she reaches for the rest of her sandwich.

"No problem."


	15. Chapter 15

A big thank you to everyone who continues to read, review and like this story, and message me such kind and thoughtful things. As some of you might know this story is now _planned _to the end, but there's still lots and plenty to go! I hope you'll all hang in there with me!

As always, my love and thanks to my dear PJ and to my best cheerleader, editor and partner-in-crime, my ML xx

xXx

With a click of the lock Mike slides in the apartment door, dropping his backpack down on the floor. He waves distractedly at where Tina is sitting at the kitchen table, her sketchbook spread in front of her and fighting for space with her laptop. Pencil crayons lay scattered around; a random green one holds up the twisted knot of her hair. Tina frowns up at Mike with a curious gaze- it's unlike him to not even say hello when he comes in the door- but then she notices the phone wedged between his shoulder and neck. Realising she is looking at him, he mouths 'Dad' to her and she nods in acknowledgement.

On the phone, the receiver finally gets picked up.

"Michael Chang," the voice on the other end answers, terse and somewhat distracted, but it doesn't dissuade Mike.

"Wéi Dad," he starts, Mandarin rolling awkwardly off his tongue because it's been longer than he can remember since he spoke his first language. "Shengrì kuàilè."

"Yes, yes, thank you Junior," Mike's father replies with almost a sigh. "And thank you for the card."

"You're welcome." A smile breaks across Mike's face as he wanders past Tina, dropping a kiss to the top of her head as she continues her colouring. "Did you see my address has changed?" There's typing on the other end of the phone, the sound of someone pulling drawers open and closed and then murmured curses in Chinese followed by a long silence. "Dad?"

A small cough brings Mike's father back to the conversation. "What?"

Heading into the bedroom so Tina doesn't have to hear him sigh, Mike drops down on the edge of the bed. "My address Dad. I moved," he states again, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Like, three weeks ago. I emailed you about it twice: before and after. Then I wrote my new address on the envelope of your card."

"Michael," Chang Senior's voice is clipped. "Do you know how many emails I get in a day? It's the end of the financial year, Junior, you know what that means for me."

Lying back on the bed, Mike stares at the ceiling, watching the shards of light dance against the off-white paint. "I know Dad, I'm sorry. I just… I was excited about it is all."

There's a pause, and Mike can hear his father set his glasses down on the desk. Propping himself up on his elbows, he waits for a question he can tell is coming. His dad clears his throat and Mike feels hope well in his chest. Surely his father is curious about what caused him to change apartments? "It's closer to work?"

Exhaling hard and feeling hope trickle out of his body, Mike flops back down again, his hand pressed over his eyes. "Yeah Dad, it is. Just five blocks down. And I'm living with someone."

It's as though his father is only partly listening; he grabs onto the first part of the sentence and Mike knows he's completely ignored the latter. "Well good. You know this is the year you're eligible for Chief Resident, Junior, and you need to be concentrating on work. Make sure you're paying your dues, putting your hours in. If you're ever going to get a tenured position at Stanford or become a research fellow at John's Hopkins, this is the first step."

Words bite at the back of his throat, but Mike forces them down with a hard swallow. "I know," he nods his head, causing his hair to stick up in the back as it rubs against the comforter. "I'm working hard Dad. I'm just… I'm really happy right now."

"And think how happy you'll be when you're made Chief Resident, Michael. After all the money we put into your schooling. It's what we've worked for," his father replies succinctly.

Feeling his throat constrict, Mike squeezes his eyes shut. "You're right Dad. Absolutely." Then, feeling a momentary burst of boldness, Mike swings his feet up so they're resting against the wall. "And I'm seeing someone Dad. Have been for a while now. Her name's Tina and she's really - "

"Junior, I've got another call buzzing in. We'll talk about this another time okay? When I've not got so many deadlines. You understand."

Sighing, Mike rubs his eyes with a fisted hand hard enough that he sees stars. "Yeah Dad, of course. Another time."

"Thanks for calling."

Mike barely has time to think 'no problem' before he's met with the dial tone and throws his cell across the bed; it disappears in a pile of abandoned clothes that Tina clearly stripped off earlier in the day after her meeting with the advertising agency. As he thinks of Tina, he hears socked feet shuffling in the hallway, and then the door creaking open just a fraction. Pulling his eyes from the sunlight dotted ceiling, he sees her concerned face peeking cautiously through the gap.

"You okay?"

When the only response she gets is a sigh that seems to come all the way from Mike's toes, Tina steps into the room, dropping onto the bed next to Mike and resting her warm hand flat on his chest. She sweeps her thumb back and forth, attempting comfort. "My Dad," Mike finally says after a moment. "I was calling to say happy birthday."

"You m-managed that pretty quick," she prompts gently, pulling her knees up so she sits cross-legged next to him. "Everything okay?"

Rolling his eyes, Mike meets Tina's gaze with a humourless smirk. "He's too busy to talk," he admits, pushing himself up so he's sitting – back ramrod straight – and looking out the window at the streaming traffic down below. "As long as I'm busting my butt to make Chief Resident…" he trails off with a sigh. There's such a look in his eyes – of longing and disappointment – that Tina can't stop herself from wrapping her arms around him, squeezing tight, but he only allows her a moment before untangling himself from her embrace. "I'm going for a run," he announces, beginning to unbutton his shirt, leaving him only in an undershirt. Next come his pants, and he moves across the room without looking back at Tina, rummaging in a drawer for running shorts. He yanks them up his legs with almost viciousness and slides his feet in his sneakers, only stopping at Tina's simple murmur of his name.

"Mike…"

Stilling, he stares down at the Stanford University hoody that he holds in his hands. "You know any other parents in their position would be asking why I'm not married, and be bugging me for grandkids," he starts with a coughed laugh, meeting her eyes with a sad half-smile. "Not mine. I try and tell them I've met a beautiful, fantastic girl - "

"_Mike," _she giggles with a blush.

"The love of my life," he presses on, tossing the sweatshirt aside and not caring where it lands, "and all he can ask is if I've been putting enough hours in at work. Like that's all I am to him, Tina."

Standing up, Tina wraps her arms around his waist, her head tucked under his chin. "He loves you, Mike."

"He doesn't know me, Tee."

There's a sigh, and then he pulls away from her embrace again, and picks up his iPod from the dresser. "I'll be back later," he tells her, pressing a kiss against the corner of her mouth with distraction. "Don't wait to eat."

Standing in the middle of the room, she doesn't move until she hears the front door slam; she picks up his abandoned sweatshirt and folds it against her body with a sigh.

xXx

When Mike returns to the apartment his breathing is still ragged and skin is cold to the touch. Outside the streets are lit with neon and the quiet night only pierced by the sound of angry cab drivers and lumbering garbage trucks. His heart leaps when he finds the plate on the counter covered with a piece of paper towel and a post-it note with his name surrounded by little hearts. Heating it up, he wolfs it down in about 30 seconds flat and feels the warmth spread through his body in an instant.

Feeling the muscles in his back and legs ache, he heads into the bathroom, setting the water running in the shower before slowly peeling off his clothes. Shorts pool around his ankles and he kicks them aside, stepping into the bathtub and letting the hot, steamy water rain down on the back of his neck. Bracing one hand against the wall, he stands for a moment just breathing deeply in and out. Like he'd exorcised his anger pounding his feet against the Manhattan sidewalk, the last vestiges of frustration feel like they're being sluiced away with the dirt.

He's just about to grab for the shower gel when he hears the bathroom door open and close, and then a small hand running down his back "Want some company?"

Reaching out and taking the gel, Tina squirts some into her hand, lathering it up between her palms. Then making him turn to face her, she slowly, carefully, rubs it in circles around his chest. It feels decadent, the mix of mint and lime and Tina's touch, especially when she leaves his chest and starts trailing down his abs and around to the small of his back and lower. She hits a particular kink in his hamstring and he hisses, but it only makes her dig her thumb in harder, easing out the knot. "Oh yeah," he moans with relief at the alleviation of pain, and it makes her giggle as she rubs down the rest of the length of his thighs, ending up on her knees at his feet. He's about to ask if she'd give his calf muscles a good going over when she straightens up slightly, and leaning forward, takes the tip of his cock into her mouth.

Cursing with surprise, he braces himself with one hand, the other coming down to her shoulder. "Tee, you don't have to - " he starts, but the way she glares at him from her position makes the argument die on his lips, only to be replaced by another curse as she moves her tongue and her hand in tandem and it's like someone has just set fire to his gut because _damn. _

Deciding that it's _really _not worth arguing when this is him _losing, _he brings his free hand up to tangle in her hair, loving the view of her arched back, curvy hips and full breasts bobbing as she moves up and down his length, her mouth being trailed by her hand so he feels like he's all encompassed. Between the shower and her lips, everything feels wet and warm and tight, and he has to lean hard against the tiles as his head swims. "Tina," he chokes, her name getting caught in his throat, and it's then that she pulls back from him, sitting back on her heels.

"I'm t-taking care of you," she says simply, letting her thumb brush over his head, looking up at him from under her eyelashes, pearled with steam. "Let me."

He has no words to argue. He doesn't really understand how he's this lucky that his girlfriend – his amazing, perfect, _sexy _girlfriend – is desperate to do this for him, but as she sucks sharply and squeezes his base, he feels his knees start to tremble and stops thinking altogether. He barely manages to pull out of her mouth in time – coming hard enough to make his already exhausted legs buckle – and is still catching his breath when he feels her arms wrap around him. Her slick breasts press against him. "Feel better?" she asks, rubbing her thigh lazily against his still half-hard cock.

"Relaxed," he assures her, tucking his head into the crook of her neck, breathing in the sweet clean scent of her skin. "Very relaxed."

"And think you'll be able to sleep n-now?"

"Mmm," he grins, pulling back to cup her face, pressing a long warm kiss against her lips. "With you? Always."

xXx

"You know we're gonna win, we dominate you every time."

"Oh please, you play about as well as my grandma – the one from Tennessee who lost her foot to diabetes."

"Well remind me to send her some cookies to thank her for teaching you your mad football skills."

"Both of you can shut up - you play like Tina's goddaughter with a head cold. Now can we get going? Tee's waiting for me and I was supposed to be out of here fifteen minutes ago."

Striding down the hall pulling jackets on over their scrubs, Sam and Matt walk behind Mike making cracking whip noises and leaning on each other as they laugh. Reaching the exit he flips them off, but their chuckles are still resonating when he feels someone slam hard into his chest. For a moment he's taken aback until he recognises the violet streaked hair and rough plaid wool skirt.

"I got accepted!" Tina shrieks into his neck, jumping up and down so much that he has to be careful she doesn't clock him in the chin. "They w-want me, Mike, they want my stuff!"

Holding her tight – and realising that her tone is one of joy and not fear – he's a little confused, "Who, baby?"

Pulling back, she grips his hands, and the smile on her face is wide and bright and ecstatic. "The gallery. Artie's gallery. We had lunch today and they w-want me, Mike! They're going to fund a whole exhibition. I mean, only for one w-week and as part of a n-new artist showcase but they want _me. My _stuff."

Her face is almost cracking with excitement and it's actually Matt and Sam who manage to congratulate her first, enthusing honestly from their place on the curb. For a moment Mike's completely still and silent, but then he picks her up, spinning her around in place and making her laugh hard, her head tipped back and hair flying behind her like a banner. "I am SO proud of you!" he yelps, bringing her down and cupping her face, kissing her hard and sound. Pulling back, he rests their foreheads together. "You're brilliant."

"So're you," she responds, and they grin at each other for a moment before the sound of fake-retching from behind spoils the moment. When they move apart, Matt manages an eye roll as Sam pretends to stick his fingers down his throat. "And to think," Tina starts, reaching into her jacket pocket. "I brought something n-nice for you." Her words are addressed to Sam, but Matt and Mike look on curiously. Sliding a piece of paper out of her pocket, she walks up to the blond, pressing it against his muscular chest. "D-don't be a hater." Then, standing up on her tiptoes, she whispers in his ear. "Call her."

Turning back to Mike, Tina holds her hands out. "Celebratory sex?" she offers with a wink, and Mike just turns to his friends, grinning brightly before following her off the curb and towards their home.

In the evening dim Matt pouts and Sam shifts on his feet, rubbing his thumb over the small square of paper. "Beer?" Matt offers, but then it's Sam's turn to smile.

"Nah dude, not tonight," he says with a shrug. "I got something I need to do."

xXx

It's two days later when Mike gets home mid-afternoon to find the apartment in complete chaos. For a moment he worries they've been a victim of crime until he notices that the TV, computer and stereo are still there and the only thing that seems to have been moved around are canvasses. And easels. Plus paints, pencils, chalks, charcoals and some things that Mike can't even identify. It's an explosion of colour and half-finished sketches; in the middle of it all Tina sits at the kitchen table with a bespectacled man, his light brown hair parted to one side and a white shirt buttoned up to his neck and worn under a bright green sweater-vest.

So engrossed in whatever is spread in front of them, the two of them don't even stir as Mike sets his backpack down and toes off his sneakers.

"Girl, this is just passion on a page," the man announces, raising one hand to the ceiling as though in praise before turning back to the sketchbook in front of him. "You got more in this series?"

"Mmm!" Tina's leaning down then, searching through a stack of sketchbooks that sit by her feet. Pulling a blue-bound one from the pile, she hands it over. "There's this one h-here," she explains, reaching over to flick to the correct page. "And here." She's clearly pointing to drawings or something because the man's eyes go wide and he leans back in his seat.

"This. Yes. I see it now. It's sex!"

"Hi." Mike doesn't even really remember thinking his greeting, but it pops from his mouth and both heads snap up.

Tina has a warm smile on her face and doesn't seem to notice the smear of paint down the side of her cheek, and the other man nods in a friendly manner, waiting patiently as Tina untangles herself from the detritus; she hops across the room to wrap her arms around Mike's neck, pressing an excited kiss against his lips. "Hi!" she welcomes back, tangling her fingers in his. "Artie and I are just trying to put together a theme for the show. He thinks it should be sex."

"Sex sells, yo," the man says with an amused smile.

"But p-passion lasts," she counters with a knowing grin. Tugging Mike over to the table, she waves her hand between the two men. "Mike, this is Artie Abrams, an old friend of m-mine from NYU. G-got me through computer graphics my F-freshman year and now runs a v-very awesome up-and-c-coming gallery in Brooklyn."

Waving his hand as though batting away the compliment, Artie quirks his lips. "Flattery," he argues with a smile.

Ignoring him, Tina presses on in her introductions. "Artie, this is my boyfriend Mike. He's a doctor at the hospital a few blocks down."

Ever polite, Mike leans across the table and shakes hands with the other man, only noticing his driving gloves (and finding them slightly obscure) as Artie grins, "I'd stand up, but you know." For a moment Mike's confused by the comment, but then Artie moves back to grab another piece of Tina's work and Mike finally notices the wheelchair.

Amused at the other man's humour, Mike lets a smile flicker against his lips. "So how's the selection process going?"

The table is covered in sketchbooks and papers, and Mike's amazed that they can actually find anything they're looking for, but they both nod their heads with enthusiastic smiles. "Great," Artie answers first, picking up the pad nearest to him and flicking through it; Mike can make out pencil outlines and bursts of colour as the pages flutter by. "It's just narrowing it down – your girl has too much beautiful stuff."

Blushing, Tina reaches out and smacks Artie softly on the shoulder. "Shut up," she tells him - but with a smile - and then looking up at Mike asks, "How was your day?"

"Busy," he admits with a slight laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "PS-123 had a case of food poisoning. Not pretty."

"Ouch," Artie agrees with a sympathetic laugh. "Bad luck bro."

Stretching up on her tiptoes, Tina presses a kiss against Mike's scruffy shadowed cheek. "They were okay?"

Smiling – because Tina's unparalleled compassion never fails to make him stomach flip – he nods his head. "A couple are going to have to stay overnight on IV, but mostly just a lot of vomiting," he tells them with a wrinkled nose. "And a _lot _of irate parents."

Allowing Mike to sit down at the table, Tina settles herself in his lap and reaches for another one of the sketchbooks on the table, handing it over to Artie. "They were probably j-just worried," she reminds him, leaning against his chest. "I would be if our k-kid started the day at Elementary School and then ended up in the hospital." Then, as though her words have just sparked a thought, she says "Oh!" and then leaps off of him, heading down the hall and into the bedroom. Artie and Mike share a look, equal parts amused and confused, and wait for a moment until they hear Tina's bare feet padding back down the hall. "I j-just remembered this."

She's carrying a cardboard folder, and opening it up, pulls out a number of photographs, some in colour and some in black and white. Fingers teasing through the stack, she stops next to the table. "If the theme is p-passion," she says, with an emphasis on the final word and a pointed look in Artie's direction, "then this seems perfect."

Pulling out a photograph she lays it down on the table and Mike recognises the people straight away. Quinn sits on a bed – blonde hair that looks strikingly different to the pink he is used to – with her back pressed against Puck's bare chest and what must be a practically newborn Beth held in their entwined arms. They both look down at the baby, Puck's lips pressed against Quinn's naked shoulder; exhaustion and complete elation are clear on both their faces.

"Gorgeous," Artie tells her, and Mike can't help but think the same, even though he really has no idea about art. "A perfect balance of complete innocence and carnal knowledge."

Laughing, Tina pushes her hair back from her face. "It's always sex with you isn't it?" she laughs and Artie gives her a wink, laughing too. "I think it's the fruition of p-passion," she states and Artie, nodding his head, scribbles in the notebook he pulls from under the stack of papers.

"'_Fruition of passion'," _he echoes. "I like it." He's scribbling more things – Mike has no idea what but he stays silent because he doesn't want to interrupt the flow of the other mans' thoughts – when the quiet is broke by the sound of frenetic beeping. "Damn," he says, searching under the papers until discovering his phone. Swiping his finger across the screen, he pushes his glasses up his nose and reads the message. "Harmony," he tells Tina, who nods in acknowledgement even though Mike has no idea who Harmony is. Picking up his notebook and a couple other papers, Artie slides them in the backpack hanging on the back of his chair and wheels himself away from the table. "I should go. Princess says jump and, well, I remind her I'm in the chair," he jokes.

Smiling and rolling her eyes, Tina nods her head, moving canvasses out of the way so he has a clear path to the door. "K-keep in touch?" she asks, leaning down and pressing a kiss against both cheeks in an artistic fashion. He responds in kind.

"We've got the theme," he assures her. "I'll let you know when the final number of pieces is decided." Then, as though just remembering there's another person in the room, Artie holds up his hand in salute. "Nice to meet you Mike."

"You too," Mike agrees, pushing himself up from the table and coming to Tina's side, sliding his arm around her waist as he watches Artie wheel his way into the elevator, waving his goodbyes.

When they're alone, the door shut behind them, Mike watches as Tina picks her way through the apartment collecting up canvasses and sketchbooks, stacking them near the sides. Sitting down on the sofa, he pulls the nearest sketchbook towards him and opens it up, staring at the half-completed and rough outline drawings. "How come you never show me these?" he asks curiously, tracing a finger over the sketch of the face.

Shrugging her shoulders, Tina hugs a canvass to her chest. "I d-don't know," she admits. "I didn't think you were that interested."

Frowning, Mike reaches out a hand, beckoning her towards him. "Of _course _I am," he assures her as their fingers tangle together. "I mean, my artistic knowledge about covers comic books but it's… it's _yours. _Your stuff. Of course I'm interested, Tee."

Looking down at their joined hands, her cheeks pink slightly, but she licks her lips and takes a deep breath before saying, "I c-can show you what I'm working on right n-now?"

He nods, and then she's holding his hand and leading him into what used to be Kurt's bedroom; it now houses a few odd boxes, a spare mattress, some of Mike's suits and stood next to the large window, Tina's full-sized easel. Reaching it, she positions Mike in front of it, before pulling the cover off.

At first he is overwhelmed by the sheer size of the piece, of all the colours and shapes and sweeps of paint. But as he stares at it longer, he tastes the bitterness of adrenalin in his mouth and is transported back to being in the middle of a protest, with undulating throngs of people all around- loud and passionate and pressed together. He realises the painting isn't of the protest he was at; all the figures in the picture are partly clothed and he recognises Quinn's profile in the centre of the picture, all action and movement seeming to spread from her point.

"Quinn and I w-went to the Slut Walk a few years ago," Tina explains, keeping her voice quiet and arms wrapped around her waist, leaning against the wall and watching Mike carefully.

"Slut Walk?" he asks, eyebrow arched high on his forehead.

She knows he's a bit perturbed – supportive of her sex positivity but not completely sure of the context – and so lets him out of his misery. "It was following c-comments made by a police officer in Canada about how women could avoid being raped – by n-not dressing like sluts," she explains.

Snorting, Mike shakes his head. "Women can avoid being raped by not being around men who rape them," he says bluntly.

Cocking her head to one side, Tina allows the corner of her mouth to quirk slightly. "That was the p-point," she agrees. "It was October and n-not exactly the warmest day ever but we w-went. And stood up and said this isn't okay. That woman can b-be who they want and dress how they want and do w-what they want with their bodies." Her voice has got slightly hard and she seems to notice, because she stops talking for a second and just shrugs her shoulders.

Looking again at the photo, Mike points to something in the still-pencilled part that waits for paint. "Is that a Mohawk?" he asks curiously. "Was Puck there?"

Grinning, Tina nods her head. "In a pair of camo boxers and combat boots and grumbling that his nipple ring was going to freeze to his chest," she tells him. "But he m-made sure he matched Quinn's underwear so I don't think he was that p-pissed."

Stepping back, Mike takes in all of the action, the colours and the grey-and-white sketched parts. He studies it quietly, looking between the painting and Tina, once, then twice, and then asks. "Am I you?"

Laughing, Tina wrinkles her nose. "Are you me?"

Nodding, he clarifies, pointing to the picture, "I mean, am I like… where you are? Am I looking from where you were?"

At the question, Tina breaks into a wide smile and nods her head fervently. "Exactly," she grins, tangling her hand around his and leaning her head against his shoulder. "It was… it was such a m-moment. Such a feeling – power and acceptance and… I w-wanted to be able to share it."

"It's… it's beautiful," he tells her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and squeezing tightly. "I mean, I still don't know anything about art, Tee, but… it's beautiful. Thank you."

Turning slightly so her nose nuzzles into his shirt. "You're welcome." Standing, both of them staring at the picture, Tina clears her throat gently. "I w-want the theme of the show to p-passion because… it's good and bad. It's soft and h-hard, you know?"

"Mmm," he agrees, turning into her and kissing the top of her head. "I like the soft parts," he teases, reaching up and sliding his hand up and under her tank top. Swiping his thumb under her breasts he leans down, pressing a kiss to the side of her neck, and she's just arching into his touch when the quiet is broken by the sound of a deep, loud grumbling.

Tina breaks into giggles and Mike clutches his stomach. "Hungry?" she asks, patting him, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

"A little," he admits, shyly. "Sorry. I didn't get lunch today."

Tutting, Tina drags him out of the room and towards the kitchen. "Michael Robert Chang," she scolds, pushing him towards the couch as she opens the fridge, rummaging around. "You have to eat lunch. You c-can't go all day with n-no food."

"Vomiting children!" he argues, picking up books from the coffee table and clearing space. "Didn't exactly give me an appetite."

Grinning, Tina flips her hair behind her shoulder. "What will I do with you?"

"I have ideas," he counters with a wink, but the seduction is broken by the sound of his stomach grumbling loudly again.

Tina breaks into peels of laughter. "How about food first, 'ideas' l-later?"

Mike answers her with a waggle of his eyebrows.

xXx


	16. Chapter 16

Hello all! Right, before we begin this is a chapter that DEFINITELY warrants the fic's M rating. Please note there is mention of sexual assault and if you find these issues triggering you may not wish to read.

As always all my love and thanks to my Maple Leaf, and good luck to everyone watching the season opener! We can keep our OTP love alive in fic, if nowhere else.

Comments, likes and reviews always extremely appreciated.

xxxxx

Tina's just combing her wet hair out, sitting in front of the mirror when she hears the front door slam. Unusually, there is no call of greeting or her name, and she can hear heavy footsteps, a crash, and then cursing. Curious, she pulls her hair up into a ponytail, twisting an elastic around it before venturing out into the hall.

"Mike?" she says as she turns into the kitchen. "What's g-going on?"

He's in the middle of the kitchen, backpack haphazardly tossed aside and chair kicked out of his way. Fighting with the coffee maker, he tries to twist the top off; cursing loudly and vehemently he slams his hand down on the counter top. "What the _fuck _is wrong with this thing?!"

Brows knotting, she comes alongside him, pressing the button that allows the top to pop off. Then taking his hand and moving it away from the machine, she laces their fingers together. "What's wrong?"

Because something is wrong- is _very _wrong- and she could tell without even looking at him. His shoulders are high and tense and his face is hard and he pulls his hand away from hers, scrubbing his cheek. "Nothing," Mike argues, moving away from the counter and instead going to the fridge, grabbing a beer. Twisting the top off, he takes a long drink before amending, "Sometimes I don't know what's wrong with people."

"B-bad day?" she asks gently, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Her skin is still slightly damp from the shower and she watches him stare at a droplet of water as it slides down her bare neck. "Mike?"

He's completely silent until she reaches out, laying a hand on his shoulder. It seems to break something in him, because he tears his eyes from her and stares down at his beer bottle. "Sixteen year old girl," he says after a breath. "Goes to a movie with her friends. Steps out to get a soda. Bumps into a guy from her school. He asks her to come outside with him while he smokes." Mike breaks off, swallowing thickly, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "He takes her behind the movie theatre and rapes her. This little, quiet girl who was flattered he even knew her name. God, Tina," his hand slams down on the counter again, and it's loud – _so _loud – in the quiet of the apartment. His other hand bangs his bottle down and beer sloshes over his fingers. "How the _fuck _does someone do that? He's a seventeen-year-old kid, how does he – I mean – how does he have that in him? That hatred that – that _violence?" _

Mike's pacing up and down the kitchen now, his hands fisted in his hair as he curses. Tina's standing so still next to the counter; her fingers fiddle with the hem of her sweater. "I don't know," she offers simply, knowing he isn't really hearing her anyways. "Mike -"

"I know," he interrupts her. "I know this is part of my job and I'm meant to be professional, but I just wanted to… I don't know, go and find that kid and tear him apart and make him come and see what he _did _to her." Out of the corner of his eye he can see her move from the counter to the couch, dropping into a seat, her eyes staying on him as he kicks another chair, cursing as it hurts his foot. He's furious and heated, and she watches him carefully. "I want to hurt him, Tee."

"That's n-not your job," she reminds him gently. "You p-put this girl's body b-back together. Then you t-turn it over to the police."

Turning on her, his face is aghast. "How are you not _angry _about this? How are you not absolutely _furious, _Tina? This is what you do – this – you fight against these things and you get angry with these assholes and why are you so _calm?!"_

His voice is almost a yell, and it makes her flinch. Closing her eyes for a beat, she swallows with hands fisted in her lap. "I am angry," she tells him, her words are quiet and measured. "But I'm… I'm m-more sad for that g-girl. For the f-fact she has to w-wake up tomorrow and r-realise it wasn't all a b-bad dream."

There's something in her voice – some catch in her breath – that makes Mike's feet finally still. Looking at her – _staring _at her really – he's barely whispered her name when tears start slipping down her cheeks. "Tina…" he says softly, watching as the tears fall, one and then another until her shoulders are shaking and a tiny hiccup escapes her lips.

"Tee?" he whispers, and if his chest hurt before then it's nothing compared to how it feels now, seeing her so crumpled and upset. He wants to go to her, but something keeps him frozen. Something about her last words echo around his head and in his ears and he can't stop himself replaying them over and over.

She tips her chin up, taking a deep breath and wiping at her eyes with her wrist. Tears dampen the sleeves of her sweater. "Sit d-down with me?" she asks, her voice quiet and hesitant – almost guilty – and he doesn't understand that at all. "I need to t-talk to you about something."

He goes to her, stumbling slightly, his feet not responding well to his brain. There's something in Tina's voice - something in the tilt of her head and the way she won't quite meet his eyes and she clasps his hand _so_ tightly; it's as though she's about to tell his five-year-old self that there's no Santa and Christmas isn't coming anymore. He drops onto the seat next to her. She takes a deep breath- takes two- and he can feel the nervous energy radiating from her skin. Her hand trembles in his.

"You can talk to me about anything," he whispers, even though as soon as he says it he wants to take it back. He wants so badly to take it back because when she finally looks up at him her eyes are so dark and her face _so_ sad. He knows this isn't going to be the kind of thing he can just make dinner and go to sleep after.

He's frozen, but manages to squeeze her hand. It's not much, but it seems to be enough because she swallows – hard – and then opens her mouth. "Do you remember what I t-told you about High School? About the guys who p-picked on Kurt and b-beat him up?"

Of course he remembers. Every time the weather changes and he sees Kurt wiggling his fingers more than usual, or he sees Blaine fish Advil out of his pocket wordlessly and hand them to his boyfriend, he remembers. He nods his head.

"Well, one of them d-didn't just p-pick on Kurt. There w-was a guy – Scott. He, uh... he t-took to following me around. Leaving n-notes in my locker, on my car. Drawing p-pornographic pictures of me in the b-boys' locker rooms and writing all k-kinds of lies about me. He stole my things out of my b-bag and seemed t-to always be around when no one else was there. And he said if I t-told anyone he'd do something way w-worse to Kurt than break his arm."

She's shaking – her whole body shaking – but her words are surprisingly calm. Or, when Mike studies her he realises, painfully measured. The hand that isn't wrapped in his fists tightly in her sweats.

Mike doesn't say anything – knows he can't break her flow – but he rubs his thumb gently over her knuckles to remind her that he's there. The corner of her mouth quirks for a split second, but then she's licking her lips and speaking again. "My stutter was really b-bad. Really, really bad. I was living with my Great Aunt and her English is awful and so I – I d-didn't really t-talk to anyone. And Kurt had just m-met Blaine so he wasn't... he was still in a c-cast. I mean, it w-wasn't... I _c-couldn't_. I couldn't d-do that to him."

"Tina..." Mike's voice is barely a breath, but so, so loud in the quiet room. He swears he can hear her heart hammering in her ribs and wonders if it's as painful as the feel of his own, trying to break out of his chest.

She licks her lips, biting down on the bottom one hard enough that it leaves teeth-shaped crescents in the dusky pink skin, but nods her head – acknowledgement that she is going to continue. That she has to. Thoughts race through his mind – memories of previous conversations – and he wonders just how long she's been waiting to say these words.

"One d-day it just got t-too much. I'd lost weight, and I c-couldn't sleep and I c-couldn't concentrate. So when he c-cornered me in the science classroom I t-told him to leave me alone. I t-told him I was going to tell the Principal about what he'd been d-doing and the things he'd been saying. I thought it m-might scare him off, but he just _laughed_. He laughed at me and t-told me that no one would believe me b-because I was the f-freak and he was the football star. Then he grabbed me - "

Mike hears his hard exhalation then, and he knows Tina does too because she squeezes his hand tightly but she doesn't stop talking.

"He grabbed my wrists and p-pinned them behind me and... he was a b-big guy. I mean, I tried to get away from him – I really d-did – but he just held on t-tighter and then his lips were on my face and his hands..." She pauses then, taking a deep breath, licking her lips again, fingers clenching Mike's so tightly that it's painful but he doesn't let go. He holds back just as fiercely. "He t-touched me. Sexually. W-without my consent." Vaguely, Mike notices how it sounds like a recitation, like something she's said before, probably more than once. But then she adds with a slight break in her voice, "With me c-crying and trying to m-make him let go."

"Tina…"

Snatching a breath, Tina pushes her hair behind her ear. "A supply teacher named Miss Holliday t-took a wrong turning on the way to English. W-walked in. Found us." She laughs, breathy and bitter and pulls her legs up to her body. "He tried to t-tell her that I was his girlfriend and w-we were just looking for some privacy. With his pants unzipped and m-my wrists turning purple and me c-crying so hard I was hyperventilating. He had that audacity."

Mike feels like he's barely breathing. All his anger from before has seeped into his stomach, curdling with this new hurt and making him feel sick to the soles of his feet. He swallows thickly against the rising bile. "What happened?"

The fact that he's still sitting next to her – that he hasn't bolted for the door – makes Tina sigh, just slightly, and close her eyes. Tears drip from her lashes onto her cheeks and she squeezes his hand, as tacit gratitude that he is there and he is listening and he is still holding her. "Miss Holiday started yelling. Scott – Scott was still c-claiming I was his g-girlfriend. Another teacher – Mr Martinez, the Spanish t-teacher – then he was there. He g-grabbed Scott, I think. I d-don't really remember." Tina's voice falters and she rubs her forehead, as though just dredging up the memories causes her pain. "I remember the hospital," she tells him with a small smile of recognition, and he replies in kind. "My d-doctor was really k-kind."

There's a long pause, and then Mike's reaching out – so tentatively – and wrapping his arm around her shoulders. With a relieved sigh, she lets herself collapse into his side. "I'm sorry I yelled at you," he tells her gently, nuzzling his nose into her damp hair. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." His voice breaks, and he has to bury his head in her neck because they both know it's not the yelling he's apologising for at all. "I'm so sorry, Tina."

"You d-didn't do anything," she reminds him, stroking his back in broad, comforting sweeps. "I d-didn't even kn-know you then Mike." Then, taking a long slow breath, she stands up and holds her hand out for him. "Would you c-come to bed with me?" she asks gently.

He swallows thickly, staring down at his hands. "In a minute."

"Mike." Her voice breaks, and it's enough to make him look her in the face. Her eyes sparkle with unshed tears, but her chin is up and defiant. "_Please_."

Nodding, he tangles their hands together, letting her pull him up and towards their bedroom. Then stripping off his clothes slowly, he watches her turn down their bed, sliding between the sheets. When he climbs in next to her, her back is facing him, and as he touches her waist, he can hear her break into tears. Silently, he wraps her in his arms and kisses the nape of her neck, squeezing his eyes shut.

He knows when he wakes up tomorrow, this won't have just been all a bad dream.

XxX

When he opens his eyes again it's the afternoon and Tina has already slipped out to work, but she's set the coffee maker so he's woken by the rich, bitter smell. On the counter a note sits waiting for him, with simple words – _thank you, I love you – _surrounded by hearts and kisses. He has the next two days off and knows he should be being helpful; there's a laundry hamper full in the bathroom and the kitchen sink's been dripping for a week. Instead, he finds himself slipping his wallet into his pocket and heading out the door. He stays silent until he's across town, knocking on a familiar door.

When Matt opens up, he's still rubbing his eyes. "Dude?" he greets with a confused yawn. "What are you doing here?"

"I want to get drunk," Mike says simply, pushing his way inside. "Painfully, blisteringly drunk." Sitting down on the cool leather couch, his face is pleading and desperate. "Please?"

Sighing, Matt scrubs his stubble-rough cheek. "Shower first," he negotiates, knowing he can't even begin to argue with Mike in this state when he's only been awake for five minutes. "Coffee. Then I'll see what I can do."

Flopping backwards, Mike stares at the ceiling. "I'll be here."

xXx

Luckily Matt's a good friend; he takes Mike out for a massive lunch of burgers and fries before he starts them drinking, so at least he has a good base in his stomach before the Jack Daniels starts flowing. Still, by nine pm Mike is completely smashed, sitting precariously on a bar stool with a beer bottle clutched in his hand. Luckily he had been too drunk to notice when Matt had switched him to non-alcoholic, and instead is in a deep conversation with a crowd of young twenty-something girls dressed up to the nines and sipping cocktails. They're all giggling at him – with his tousled hair and tight t-shirt and chiselled jaw – but he's frowning seriously and his voice is imploring.

"You _matter,_" he slurs in their direction, using his bottle to punctuate his words and clutching onto the wood of the bar with his free hand to stop himself tumbling off his seat. "Guys should – they should treat you like you _matter. _Like you're _special." _Leaning forward, he pats one of the girls on the shoulder carefully. "You're _special." _

"Okay!" Matt's suddenly by his side, removing Mike's hand from the girl and helping him up from the stool, arm hooked under his shoulders. "Say goodbye to the nice ladies, Mikey."

"We're going?" he asks, confused, as Matt hauls him towards the exit and deposits them out onto the cool New York street. "I don't want to go home," he says, leaning heavily against the wall of the bar as Matt checks his pockets for his wallet and keys.

"Pretty sure Tina'll be missing you."

Matt's curious when Mike shakes his head, but feels better after he manages to slur the words, "She's a work. Sleepover withegirls." Bringing his hand up, he scrubs at his hair so it sticks up, making him look like a weary porcupine. He shrugs his shoulders and turns his big dark eyes on Matt. "House is 'mtpy."

Rolling his eyes, Matt knows better than to hail a cab; the walk in the fresh air will do Mike some good. So he just loops his arm around his friend's waist and points them both in the direction of home. After a couple blocks of just concentrating on putting feet to sidewalk, Matt finally gives in to his curiosity. "Seriously dude, what's with drowning yourself tonight? I haven't seen you like this since the first time someone coded in front of you. Is it your Dad? Tina?"

Mike takes a deep breath, but then is shaking his head. "You… you with all your girls. You have a lot of girls, right?" he asks, but doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, he just pats Matt's shoulder. "I know there's lotsa girls with you but… you like them. You're _good_ to them."

Nodding his head, Matt pats Mike's hip in return. "My mama raised me right."

This doesn't seem to help Mike's confusion; instead, his face only seems to crumple further. "You're nice to women. I'm nice to women. Women are awesome." He thinks for a long moment and then says curiously, "You know which woman is awesome? Tina. And so I can't… how could anyone not be nice to her? And hurt her? And try and force… especially when she was only so little and… how could anyone _do _that to her?"

It's clearly a rhetorical question – and one that Matt's not sure Mike'd even be asking if he was sober – so he just answers simply. "I don't know, bro. I guess there are just a lot of dicks out there."

It's not a great answer, but Mike seems to mull it over, and says nothing until they get back to Matt's apartment. Then, as his friend is settling him down on the couch – sneakers removed and a pillow shoved under his head – he looks up at him with wide bloodshot eyes. "Thanks Matt."

Knowing he's going to have one hell of a headache in the morning, Matt just places a glass of water by his side. "Anytime, bro. Just don't puke on my carpet."

xXx

"So I hear she told you about Scott?"

The voice comes from nowhere and causes Mike to almost drop the mug he's taking down from the cupboard – glad his reflexes are sharp and the mug itself is empty – and once it's secure in his hand he sets it down on the counter with care. Reaching out, he adds a green tea bag to it before licking his lips and answering. "You hear right."

Kurt enters the room slowly, leaning against the fridge. Mike can hear Tina and Blaine's voices down the hall – probably in the bedroom – and he's glad that Tina isn't there to see his body go tense with the mention of Scott's name. He knows Kurt notices, because the other man nods his head, taking a couple steps before sinking into one of the chairs around the kitchen table. Waiting until Mike has added boiling water to his tea, Kurt points to the chair opposite him. "Sit," he says, and Mike can hear that it's an order not a suggestion, so he nods his head and acquiesces. Keeping his hands wrapped around his mug, he avoids Kurt's eyes, instead staring down at the tinted green water.

"You know she moved in with me and my Dad after it happened?" Kurt begins, and Mike really wants to tell him to stop talking, because he's been trying for days to put the event out of his mind. Ever since waking up with the worst hangover at Matt's apartment, his stomach hasn't unknotted, and he knows Tina can sense his unease.

"Kurt-" he starts, but the other man just shakes his head, effectively cutting him off.

"She says you've been acting weird since she told you," Kurt begins, reaching out to the fruit bowl and methodically unpeeling an orange. "And I know… believe me I know how hard it is to hear. I've spent the last ten years worrying about her, wondering if I could have done something different to stop it happening." He pauses for a moment, popping a piece of orange between his lips. "If I'd listened more or been less self-involved then maybe…" he trails off with a shrug.

Mike's silent, but his heart is beating hard in his chest. Taking a sip of his tea, he asks softly, "Do you really think that?"

"Sometimes," Kurt admits. "When she moved in with me afterwards – when her parents left the country again – she couldn't sleep in her own room. She'd end up crawling into my bed in the middle of the night, like a kid in a thunderstorm. And sometimes when she wouldn't eat or shower or leave the house, I'd end up yelling at her because… would it have happened if she wasn't my friend? Did they take an interest in her because she hung out with me?" Mike watches as Kurt lets go of his fruit, moving to massage his wrist, and he really wonders where this is going because he's never heard Kurt talk like this or sound so unsure of himself. Truthfully, if he's trying to make Mike feel better then he's not doing a great job, because it's just making Mike feel more nauseated then he already does.

Reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck, Mike frowns. "What's your point?"

Looking up from his arm, Kurt stares Mike dead in the eye; Mike feels it like a punch to the chest, Kurt's gaze is so intense. "My point is, my feelings of hurt or guilt – they don't help her. They didn't then and they don't now. They just force her to live it over and over again. Which is the last thing I – and I'm sure you – want for her."

The feeling of horror must be clear across Mike's face, because Kurt actually reaches out and rests his hand on Mike's forearm, squeezing gently. "God," Mike manages finally, shaking his head. "Of course I don't."

"Then you have to stop this," Kurt tells him simply. "You have to stop feeling angry and hurt about it, okay? I mean… there'll be moments but… you have to get to the point where you can look at her and not think about it." There's a long pause, and then Kurt leans back in his chair. "She says you haven't even had sex since she told you?"

It's so unexpected that Mike actually coughs a laugh; he can feel a blush creeping up his neck and painting his cheeks and his ears tingle with heat. "She _talks _to you about that?"

"She talks to me about everything," Kurt reminds him with a knowing smile and a quirked eyebrow, and it's enough to make Mike cover his eyes in embarrassment. "But to be honest, she didn't even have to say it for me to know she misses you."

"I've been here."

"Not the way you normally are."

It's so strange to have Kurt talking to him like this considering how during their first meeting he would barely look him in the eye. Now he's staring at him meaningfully and they're both keeping one ear trained on the sound of laughter coming from the bedroom and their significant others. "You know she'll kick both our asses if she finds us talking about her like this?" Mike tries as a way of changing the subject, but Kurt isn't fooled.

"Mike," is all he has to say, and it has the man in question nodding.

Taking a deep breath, Mike dips a finger in his quickly-cooling tea, watching as the ripples grow and spread across the surface of the liquid. "I know," is all he says, and it's accompanied by a heavy, laden sigh. "You're right."

"Usually," Kurt says with a smile. Then standing up he moves around the table, giving Mike's shoulder a quick squeeze. "Just talk to her," he advises simply. "And don't let one day, ten years ago – before you even knew her – ruin what you guys have now, okay?" Pushing his bangs back from his forehead, Kurt admits slowly, "You actually make her really very happy."

Mike feels pride spread through him at what he knows are words of praise from Kurt – and he's just about to reply when he's interrupted by two figures entering the hall, large smiles on both of their faces. Kurt is the first to turn to them, a mask slipping into place so all traces of his former sadness are gone. "Did you get it all worked out?" he asks, holding out half the peeled orange to Tina, who takes it with a grin.

"Blaine says it's a g-good contract," she nods, bouncing on her socked feet, eating a piece of the proffered fruit, the citrus juice breaking bright and sharp over her tongue.

Closing up his briefcase with a snap, Blaine smiles at her. "Your friend Artie's a fair guy," he acknowledges. "The show's going to be really fantastic."

He reaches out to ruffle her hair, and laughing, she ducks out of his reach, slipping behind Mike and wrapping her arms around him, using his body as a shield. "Quit it!" she tells Blaine with a giggle, peeking around Mike's side. "Or Mike'll k-kick your ass."

"I will?" the man in question asks with a laugh, shifting so his arm is around her shoulders and she leans into his side. She seems to melt into his touch as he runs his fingers lightly up and down her bare arm.

"Mmhmm," she says with a definitive nod, her cheek pressed into the soft cotton of his shirt. "Pretty sure."

Mike's vaguely aware of Kurt and Blaine sharing a look on the other side of the room, but his focus is on Tina and the feel of her skin under his hand. He really _has _missed her like this; he knows the distance has been his fault, but now she's in his arms again and Kurt's words are still fresh in his mind. He can't help but wonder why on Earth he's been keeping her at arm's length.

He thinks some of this must show on his face because the next thing he knows Kurt and Blaine are grinning knowingly at the two of them. "We should go," Kurt offers, and Mike knows Tina must be feeling something too because she doesn't even argue with him or ask the two of them to stay for dinner as she normally would.

"Okay," she says simply, reluctantly dragging herself from Mike long enough to wrap her arms around first Kurt and then Blaine. "Thank you for all y-your help," she tells him, pressing a kiss against his weekend-stubbly cheek. "I owe you."

Squeezing her in a hug, Blaine scoffs. "Never," he tells her. "After the amount of nights you stayed up with me while I studied for the bar? I'm happy to do it."

Mike and Tina wave the two men off with promises to catch up for dinner in the week, and then the front door is closed with a click. Taking a deep breath, Tina wraps her arms around Mike's neck, pressing her lips firmly against his, relieved when he doesn't pull away but kisses back with equal enthusiasm. "Where have you been?" she murmurs into his mouth, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck.

He knows the question isn't literal, and presses their foreheads together for a beat. "A little lost," he admits. "But I think I'm back now."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," he assures her, letting his hands slip down her back and under the skirt of her dress, bunching the material around her hips. "And not going anywhere."

"Glad to hear it," she grins, fingers twisting in the material of his t-shirt and pulling it upwards so she gets a good view of his abs. "I'll admit I'm k-kind of attached."

Laughing, he picks her up, hands grasping at her thighs, and walks them backwards until she's sat on the kitchen counter. Then he kisses her soundly, letting his fingers reach up for the buttons of her dress, slowly teasing them out of their holes and letting the material fall open. He trails a finger down her sternum. "Me too," he grins, moving his lips from her mouth to her neck, teasing the skin there until it begins to turn pink and she arches her back with a mewl. "You mean everything to me Tee."

Soon her dress is undone and tossed aside and she's up on the counter in black cotton panties and a purple lacy bra that's almost completely sheer. Mike's fingers trace around the edge of the cups, his thumb sweeping over her nipple so lightly that it almost tickles but makes her squirm. Impatient, she reaches behind her own back to remove the bra, tossing it aside to join her dress. "Bedroom," she tells him with no room for argument, and he nods, grasping her hips and helping her down from the side.

She wraps her hand around his and tugs him down the hall, and he watches as her ponytail swings behind her naked shoulders. It's entrancing, and as they enter the bedroom he reaches out, wrapping his arms around her naked waist and pressing his lips against the top of her spine. "I missed you," he breathes against her skin, his hands flat against her stomach, and she rests her own touch on top.

"I didn't g-go anywhere," she reminds him.

"I know."

They're very quiet compared to normal. Tina moves from his arms to lie back on the bed, watching in silence as he peels off his clothes before joining her. He traces kisses along her jaw, down her neck, across her chest, letting his fingers drag down her underwear as his mouth plays at her breast. Foreplay is unusually short; he moves to use his mouth on her but she shakes her head, urging him up. "Can you just be in me please?" she asks simply, reaching out to gently wrap her fingers around him.

Mike doesn't have to be asked twice; he slides in slowly, one hand hooked under her knee, and groans into her shoulder at the feel of her tight and warm around him. She whispers his name, thumb trailing across his cheek, and it's this that prompts him to lift his head, kissing her soundly as he moves inside of her, as promised.

Neither one of them last long; the feel of their bodies pressed together and her nipples scraping against his bare chest means it's only minutes before she tears her lips from his, gasping softly. He can feel her muscles tense around him and rubs her back as she rides through it. His own orgasm comes more gently than normal – a tumble instead of a crash – and she murmurs words of love and encouragement in his ear.

In bed, just looking at each other, Mike traces the angle of her face with his fingers, watching as her dark lashes flutter against her cheek. "I love you," he tells her simply, his palm cupping her cheek. "I don't ever want to be without you."

Turning her face slightly, she presses a kiss to the centre of his hand. "You w-won't be."

"Promise?"

"As m-much as anyone can ever p-promise things about the future, yes."

It's not a definite answer, but it's enough.

xXx


	17. Chapter 17

To all you wonderful people who are still reading this monstrosity, I want to say thank you. To everyone who takes the time to comment or review or like, I want you to know that you bring me so much happiness. And to everyone who loves Tike, I want to say keep the faith; they still love each other. That much is obvious!

Mostly, to my ML, I want to say how lucky I feel to have you as the chickee to my bee. For all your editing, cheerleading, prompting, teasing, headcanoning, flailing, in-a-corner-sobbing, excited jumping love. I couldn't ask for anyone better. Thank you.

XXXXXXXXXX

"My My My! My – Beth up!"

Tina just about manages to stifle a giggle as Beth runs across the kitchen and throws herself at Mike's legs. He's just out of the shower – jeans pulled hastily on and still towelling his hair – when the baby blonde bombshell attaches herself to his knees.

Tossing his towel aside, he reaches down to pick up the little girl, swinging her onto his hip with practiced ease. He's just about to ask Tina when he'd missed her arrival, but is interrupted by a piercing wolf whistle. Looking over, he sees Puck coming in the front door, arm around his wife's waist and Beth's bag in his hand. "You always walk around here half dressed?" Puck asks with a teasing tone and a quick wink, passing off Beth's things to Tina. "Or is it just when you know we're coming round?"

"Well I know how much you like it," Mike jokes back with a flex of his bicep; even though he's kidding, he doesn't miss the way Quinn and Tina share a grin and Quinn begins fanning herself with her hand.

Breaking into giggles, Quinn moves away from Puck and presses a kiss against Tina's cheek. "Thanks for having Beth tonight," she smiles, shooting a heated smile at her husband over her shoulder. "It's all her birthday stuff Sunday but we wanted to get away first."

"Two year anniversary of the last time it was just the two of us," Puck agrees, not even trying to tear his eyes from his wife. He buries his hands in his jacket pockets, as though it's the only thing keeping him from touching.

Arm around Quinn's waist, Tina leans her head on her friend's shoulder. "You w-wouldn't change having Beth for anything," she offers with a laugh, knowing usually Puck can barely stand to be away from his daughter for an evening – the fact she's staying overnight with them is a big deal.

Shrugging his shoulders, he smiles shyly. "No I wouldn't." But then catching eyes with Quinn he amends, "Still, having a little grown up alone time is pretty fucking awesome."

"_Puck," _Quinn scolds with an eye roll – because really Beth is at the stage where she's picking up everything she hears and the last thing they need is a toddler with a vast vocabulary of expletives.

"What?" he argues, "I could have said that having a little grown up fucking time is pretty fucking awesome."

Mike manages to stifle his laughter in Beth's curly hair – he catches eyes with Tina who grins at him knowingly. Quinn doesn't answer but Mike can see the smile tugging her lips as she comes alongside him, reaching up to smooth Beth's hair from her face before kissing her on the cheek. "Be good baby girl," she murmurs into the toddler's skin. "Mommy loves you." Then catching Mike's amused expression, she smacks his bare arm. "Oh shut up. You two'll understand when you have kids."

Mike doesn't have much time to process that thought before Beth is squirming in his grip. "Kiss!" Beth demands, holding her arms out towards her mother and Mike passes her off easily as Quinn takes her, pressing another kiss to the little girl's lips. "Daddy," Beth insists afterwards, pointing towards Puck, who lights up in a grin.

"Have fun with Auntie Tina and Uncle Mike," he tells Beth as he flutters kisses across her cheeks, one large hand pressed against her small back. "I love you little Puckzilla."

There are a few moments that pass in a flurry of activity – Quinn making sure Tina has every phone number that she might need and Mike and Puck chasing Beth around the kitchen table in a circle. The game is only broken up when Quinn gets teary and Puck has to pass Beth – whom he has just caught – off to Mike so he can wrap his wife up in his arms. "Time to go," he insists, edging her towards the door. Then to Mike and Tina he adds, "She'll be fine as soon as we get outside."

Tina waves her hand at Puck and Quinn as they leave, prompting Beth to do the same. "Say bye-bye," she tells the little girl, who grins and kicks her feet in the open air as Mike holds her with her back pressed against his chest.

"Bye-bye!" Beth mimics, waving her hand.

Quinn and Puck disappear in a mix of blown kisses and reminders to have fun, and then it's just Tina and Mike left in the apartment with Beth held between them. "Well," Tina begins. "What should we d-do with ourselves now?"

XxX

"You know, I've never really understood Muppet genetics."

Half reclined on the sofa, Tina's not really listening to Mike as he speaks from the floor, Beth clutching the coffee table next to him and jumping up and down as the two of them study the TV screen. Every so often she opens her mouth like a baby bird, and he spoons in a mouthful of macaroni and cheese from the half-empty bowl in front of him.

"Hmm?"

"Like, how come when Kermit and Miss Piggy have kids, the boys are frogs and the girls are pigs? Why are the girls never frogs? And how come they don't get some kind of pig/frog cross-breed?"

When Tina looks up from her drawing it's to see him looking at her, honestly confused as he eats one bite of pasta and then offers the next one to Beth. She has orange sauce smeared across her cheek but opens her mouth with a grin. "You know she c-can do that herself?" Tina offers, sidestepping Muppet breeding for a moment, and resting her sketchbook against her knees.

One eyebrow raised, Mike shrugs his shoulders. "You really want it all over the carpet?" At her chuckle and shaking of her head, Mike spoons another bite into the little girl's mouth. "Then this is definitely preferable." Scooping up the last bits of pasta, he feeds them to Beth who grins and claps her hands together before returning to her jumping. Setting the bowl down, he reaches out to take both of her hands and she squeals in delight as she clutches his fingers. Her golden curls bob around her head, and she giggles as he lifts her a fraction higher every time she bounces until she's about a foot in the air. Holding her high above his head, he makes airplane noises and Beth shrieks with laughter.

"If she's sick on you you'll have n-no one to blame but yourself," Tina tells him with a smile and a little laugh, and Mike seems to consider this for a moment before setting Beth back down on the floor. She lands on her feet but quickly collapses onto her stomach, rolling from side to side, eyes reattached to the bright colours on the screen as Kermit starts singing.

With Beth entertained for a moment, Mike unwinds himself from the floor so he can carry her now-empty bowl to the sink. He fills it with water to soak, stretching his arms above his head and rolling his shoulders. "How's the sketching coming?" he asks, hitching up his jeans as he comes to her side, perching on the edge of the couch near her hip. "Something for the show?"

He doesn't know what to think when she shakes her head and blushes a little, biting her lip with a small smile. "I got a little distracted," she admits, holding her sketchbook to her chest shyly and peeking out over the top.

Running a hand up her denim-clad thigh, he raises an eyebrow, "Can I see?"

She seems to hesitate for a moment, but then slowly turns the sketchbook in her arms so it's facing him. On the paper is a simple, pencil grey sketch of him holding Beth in his bare arms; his face scrunched in laughter as she bats him on the nose. He knows it's a moment from earlier in the evening and is amazed how Tina has captured it so perfectly. "Tee…" he breathes gently, running his finger along the paper. "It's amazing."

Mindful of the echolalic toddler laying on the floor beneath them, Tina sets the sketchbook on the coffee table before reaching up to cup the back of his neck, pulling him close for a long, warm kiss. "You're so g-good with her," she tells him, murmuring against his lips. "So relaxed. It's sexy."

She's smiling then, shyly, and he can't stop the grin from stretching across his lips. "_Really_?" he teases, drawing out the word and moving his touch up from her thigh to her waist, thumb sweeping under the hem of her tank top and across her bare skin. "Well maybe I'll ask Quinn if we can have her over more often."

They kiss again until Tina feels her head start to spin, then she presses her hand flat against his bare chest, easing him away. "D-downside is we have to k-keep it PG," she reminds him, nodding towards Beth on the floor. "At l-least until she goes to sleep."

Head buried in her neck, Mike curses softly, making Tina giggle. "Poor baby," she soothes, running her hands up and down his bare back, letting one trail forward and run over his crotch just lightly enough that it makes him curse again, laughing into her skin. "This is w-why we needed to clear the spare room."

"I moved my boxes," he reminds her petulantly, "and helped you pack up your spare canvasses. Puck and I got her old cot in there for her to sleep in."

Winding her fingers through his hair, she presses a hot kiss just below his ear; it makes him shiver and she knows he's semi-hard because when he shifts so he's laying pressed against her on the couch and wiggles one leg in between hers, she can feel him against her thigh. "Mike," she says gently, with a thick undertone of teasing, "You n-need me to start reciting the periodic table for you?"

He laughs at that, shaking his head even though it's still buried in her neck. "Already at Dysprosium," he admits.

They stay like that for a long while, only shifting so that Mike is spooned against her back and Tina's held close to the edge of the couch; Mike's arms are wrapped tight around her as she watches the Muppets sing and dance their way across the screen. Beth remains happily on the floor, occasionally punctuating their viewing with excited exclamations. "Banana yes more?" she asks them as Gonzo wanders through the supermarket, ticking off items on his shopping list.

"I don't know sweetie," Tina answers, reaching out to ruffle Beth's curls. "Gonzo does seem to like bananas but you'll have to w-wait and see."

Another twenty minutes pass before Beth starts rubbing at her eyes and losing interest in the dvd. Standing up, she wanders to where Mike and Tina are laying together, and holds her arms up. "Up Nee please?" she asks, and it's enough to actually make Tina extricate herself from Mike's arms, leaning down to pick the little girl up.

"You tired baby?" she asks, smoothing back Beth's hair from her face; the little girl nods her head, snuggling into Tina's chest.

"Bedtime?" Mike suggests from his side of the couch, reaching over and picking up the remote from the coffee table, flicking the television off and leaving them in muted, evening light. Pulling himself upright, he presses a kiss to Tina's cheek and ruffles Beth's curls. "Want me to go and run a quick bath?"

Tina stands up still holding Beth against her, the little girl's head tucked under her chin. "No, we'll d-do shower in the m-morning instead." Then nodding her head towards the kitchen, she asks him with a soft voice, "Can you grab her b-bag?"

In the spare bedroom it doesn't take them long to get Beth into her pyjamas, and then tucked into the old cot from her own apartment. Pulling the covers up to the little girl's waist, Tina sings softly as she strokes Beth's hair back. "Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter. Little darling it looks like years since it's been clear."

Slipping his arms around her waist, Mike listens as Tina sings the rest of 'Here Comes the Sun' to the little girl, voice gentle and perfect and soft, and not stopping until Beth's eyelashes are fluttering against her cheeks. Then reaching down for Tina's hand, Mike presses a finger against his lips, needlessly prompting her silence as she follows him from the room.

They leave the door open enough that they'll be able to hear her if Beth cries, and then Mike's pressing Tina back against the couch cushions, his lips hard against hers. "So tell me more about how sexy I am?" he asks, hands skimming up and under her tank top, cupping her breasts over the thin cotton of her bra. When she doesn't answer straight away, he pinches a nipple lightly, making her laugh.

"You looked sexy," she tells him, toying with the snap of his jeans. "I d-don't know… I must be hormonal or something but the 'daddy' thing was just w-working for me." Cocking her head so her curls tumble, she shrugs her shoulders. "Very primal."

He growls lightly against her skin, making them both laugh, and then her tank is up and over her head and his tongue is lathing her nipples through the thin material of her bra. "Does that mean I get to be caveman Mike and throw you over my shoulder?" he asks as a tease, biting gently but hard enough to make her arch off the couch cushions, cursing softly and grasping at his shoulders.

"M-maybe if you do that again," she tells him, pulling him back down towards her body.

He laughs into her chest, fingers sneaking up and tugging the cup aside so his tongue can flicker against her skin. "Mike like boobs," he murmurs in a faux-Neanderthal voice, sucking the skin gently. "Mike likes make Tina come screaming name."

Laughing, Tina wraps her arms around his neck. "Well then T-tina suggests reconvening somewhere further away from where the small child is sleeping."

She knows she should be prepared for it, but still when Mike stands up and flings her over his shoulder it catches her off-guard and she shrieks with laughter. His hand swats at her butt. "No waking baby," he tells her, letting his hand settle there and squeeze gently. "Mike have plans. No need interrupting."

Giggling, Tina lets him carry her upside down into the bedroom. "You are so weird," she tells him.

Flipping her upright and carrying her bridal-style towards the bed, he presses a long kiss against her lips. "And you wouldn't have it any other way."

xXx

The sun rises bright and warm on the morning of Beth's second birthday, meaning when Mike wakes up Tina's sat on the end of the bed in a strappy black and white striped a-line dress, brushing her hair into a high ponytail. "Morning sleepy head," she greets with a grin as he groans in the light, holding a pillow over his face. "You need to get up or we're going to be late."

"What time is it?" he asks, peeking out from the pillow just enough to take in the curve of her bare neck and – as she turns – the low dip in the front of her dress. Standing, the skirt ruffles around her knees and he watches as she slides her feet into a pair of battered silver sandals.

"Nine," she admits, laughing gently when he curses and turns so he's buried face-down in the pillows. "Come on, the weather's b-beautiful and we promised we'd meet everyone at ten. You need to get your b-butt in the shower."

"Don't wanna," he mumbles from the bed, pulling the covers up, but then Tina's on the bed and straddling his back, and pressing kisses behind his ear.

"This was your idea," she reminds him, massaging his shoulders with a firm and welcome touch. "Brittany is your friend and Beth is so excited about seeing all the animals."

Turning underneath her, so then her knees are either side of his hips, Mike looks up at her with a pout. "You always know how to convince me don't you?"

"It's a gift. Now hurry up." Shifting off of him, she pulls the covers off, leaving him naked and cursing on the bed. Smacking his thigh, she prompts, "Shower, shave, ship-shape and ready to go."

"No shower sex?" he grouses, pulling himself upright and heading towards the bathroom, reaching out to briefly cup her cheek.

Rolling her eyes, she allows him a quick kiss before pushing him away. "If you'd g-gotten up an hour earlier then maybe… but now there isn't enough t-time." Off of his pout, she kisses him once more and his hands slide around her waist. "Miiiike," she protests with a laugh as his lips wander down her neck. "Come ooon… I need to go finish wrapping her gift."

Letting her go, he finally heads into the bathroom, turning the tap so the shower starts running. Holding his hand underneath the spray, he tests the temperature of the water. "What did we get her?" he calls, realising his volume is needless when he looks over his shoulder and she's leaning against the doorframe. "I'm sorry I wasn't around the help with the shopping."

She watches as he loads up his toothbrush with paste, popping it between his lips and scrubbing. "You were working," she says with a smile as he tests the water again, twisting the cold water so it comes out harder. "I g-got her a Handy Manny tool belt."

"I love that show," he says with a grin, spitting into the sink before placing his brush back in the holder and then stepping into the shower. He yelps slightly at the cold shock of water, and Tina can't stop herself laughing.

"So does she." Then blowing him a kiss, she leaves him to his shower.

XxX

Central Park is busy, bright and full of people, but as they walk up 5th Avenue they can spot their party before they even reach the entrance. Quinn's pink hair is like a beacon, and Beth rides high on Puck's shoulders waving to everyone who passes. Kurt and Blaine are carrying the large wicker picnic basket and classic tartan blanket, and wave warmly as they see Mike and Tina approach. "Wondered when you were going to get here," Kurt teases, pressing a kiss against Tina's cheek as she comes to his side. "Get distracted by any chance?"

Rolling her eyes, Tina bats Kurt's chest gently, blushing slightly as the other assembled adults all share a chuckle at her expense. "Actually, I was r-ready hours ago," she tells them, watching as Quinn wraps Mike in a hug. "Someone else was b-being painfully slow this m-morning."

"It's my fault," Mike admits, because Puck looks like he's smothering a laugh and both Blaine and Kurt look pretty sceptical. "It was a long shift yesterday." Reaching up so he squeezes one of Beth's little hands, Mike seems to remember something and looks at his watch. "Speaking of which, Santana isn't here yet." Looking over at Tina, he asks her, "Has she sent you a message?"

Reaching into her shoulder bag, Tina slides her sunglasses down her nose enough that she can read the screen on her phone. "Nope," she tells him simply. "Nothing here."

They're just beginning to discuss whether they should go on ahead or wait for her when their conversation is broken by the sound of a brash, bright voice. "Hey Changsters, I hear you got a birthday girl who's looking for some back stage animal action?"

On the pathway into the park, Santana stands, body wrapped – and wrapped is really the _only _way to put it – in a green and black striped dress, lemon yellow jacket over her shoulders and black knee high socks worn with ridiculously skyscraper shoes. Hair loose over her shoulders, she looks so unlike the professional version of herself that Tina is used to, she can't stop herself skipping up to her with a grin, wrapping her up in a hug.

"Hi Santana," Tina greets warmly, and if the other woman is surprised by the embrace then she doesn't show it. Looping her arm with Tina's, she allows her to lead her back towards the group, who look on curiously. "Everyone, this is Santana. She w-works with Mike at the hospital. Santana this is Kurt, Blaine, Quinn, Puck and the b-birthday girl Beth. Say hi Beth," Tina prompts with a wiggle of her fingers.

"Hi!" Beth responds automatically with a grin and a wave. "Penguins now?"

The whole groups laughs, and Santana lets Mike squeeze her sideways in a hug. "Well," she replies to the little girl, but to the group also. "I suppose we should go and find my girl huh? Get this party started."

xXx

A couple hours later and everything is strangely relaxed. After meeting Brittany in the petting area she had taken them all around the zoo, introducing them to all the different animals, sharing stories about them and – the highlight – even letting Beth throw a fish to one of the penguins in their enclosure. The little girl had squealed with glee and everyone had pulled phones and cameras out, trying to capture the joy of the moment.

Now the blanket is spread over the lush green grass and Puck, Mike and Blaine are tossing a football around – Beth running between them – as the girls and Kurt sit and gossip. Since they'd met, Brittany and Quinn had instantly hit it off and Tina could tell Santana and Quinn were warming to one another as well. Kurt on the other hand, simply appreciated Santana's snark and Brittany's easy friendliness. It helped, of course, that all four of them had been Cheerleaders in High School – for better or worse. It was a subject that initially bonded them with shared experiences and history.

"Wait wait wait!" Sitting with her wife's head in her lap, fingers running through the long blonde strands of hair, Santana hold a hand up, unable to keep a grin off her face. "Are you telling me they're been on _three _dates without him telling me anything? The rat bastard!"

Tina and Kurt share a grin before turning back to her, though Tina lets her friend answer, ticking them off on his fingers. "Once for after work drinks, then a lunch, and last night a dinner that she didn't get home from until the wee hours of the morning," he confirms. "I don't know your friend Sam, but for Mercedes three dates is a big deal."

"Does three dates still mean sex?" Quinn wonders aloud, handing Beth a cracker when the little girl runs up to her side. She takes it with a grin, smashing it between her lips before tumbling back towards the men, and Quinn looks at the amused assembled group. "What, it's been a while!"

Reaching out for a strawberry, Kurt pops it between his lips with a thoughtful expression. "I don't know – Blaine and I have been together since we were sixteen so we didn't really do the whole dating thing per se. And Tina and Mike _definitely _didn't wait three dates. I'm not even sure they waited three hours." He's grinning at Tina as she leans into his side, and she pushes him with a shocked expression, making him topple over slightly.

"I thought we were t-talking about Sam and Mercedes, not about m-me and Mike!" she tells him, playfully annoyed as she tosses her ponytail behind her. "And we d-did too wait three hours."

Stretching out on the blanket, Tina lies on her stomach and crosses her ankles, chin propped in her palm as she watches the boys play. Somewhere along the way Mike seems to have dropped out of football, and is instead walking around pretending to be – what she assumes is – a penguin. She watches as Beth giggles, chanting a chorus of "Penguin My! More!"

Something about the way he breaks into laughter and picks the little girl up, spinning her above his head makes warmth pool in Tina's stomach, and she can feel her ears start to heat. Tearing her eyes away, she tries to refocus on the conversation at hand.

Uniform eschewed since her shift had officially ended, Brittany wiggles her long bare legs in the air, clad only in denim shorts. Reaching out, she takes Tina's arm, winding a daisy chain around her wrist. "It's nice how you brought everyone together," Brittany starts, tying the end of two blossoms together so the floral bangle will stay in place.

Curious, Tina frowns as she feels Kurt's hand on her shoulder – she knows checking for sunburn. "What do you m-mean?"

Looking up, Brittany watches as Puck grabs Blaine in a headlock, trying to steal the ball, and Kurt, Quinn and Santana all laugh at the antics as Mike – with Beth on his shoulders – sneaks in and snatches the ball from between their tussling bodies, running to make a touchdown. It leaves Mike and Beth – and the assembled crowd – cheering and laughing. In the melee, Brittany slides her hand into Tina's squeezing gently. "You brought us all together. You and Mike being in love means the rest of us get to be friends. Me and San and Matt and Sam and now Sam's crazy about this Mercedes girl who's your friend and I don't know… I know it's silly but I feel like I've known Quinn forever, you know?"

Smiling, Tina nods her head. "Yeah."

Another half hour brings the boys back to them, and then Mike's head is pillowed in Tina's lap and Beth is napping atop his chest and Tina's winding her fingers through his hair as his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks. Quinn's painting Brittany's nails a bright bubblegum pink while Blaine and Santana are deep in discussion about the latest episode of some Spanish soap they both watch when neither of them can sleep. Kurt's completely lost in his magazine and Puck just leans quietly against the tree behind them, eyes closed behind his shades.

Tina watches as Mike keeps a protective hand curled around Beth as they both doze, and she finds her fingers smoothing his hair back from his forehead as she studies him deeply. Something keeps niggling in her stomach but she can't quite put a name to it and she shifts ever so gently, trying not to disturb him or the birthday girl napping against his chest.

"I know that look."

Tina's surprised for a moment, because everyone else is so engrossed in what they're doing and she didn't realise anyone was watching her, but when she turns her head she finds Puck peeking over the top of his aviators, one eyebrow knowingly arched.

"What look?"

There's something in the way Puck leans just slightly forward – staring her in the eye – that makes a flush take over her whole body. Tina tries to keep very still but finds herself chewing on her lip, and she knows her neck and cheeks must be red because she feels like her skin is burning. Very softly – so not to key the others into their conversation – he points his index finger at her. "The look Quinn gets whenever a diaper commercial comes on or she finds one of Beth's newborn socks in the closet. _That _look." Tina opens her mouth to try and deny it, but then Puck is holding his palm up, ostensibly cutting her off. "You don't have to say anything," he tells her, pushing his aviators back up his nose. "I'm just letting you know that I know."

Feeling caught out, Tina narrows her eyes and hisses through her teeth, "Snoop," but all it does is make Puck laugh.

Reaching out with his foot, he pokes her in the side with his bare toe. "You're not denying it."

"Too nice a day for fighting," Quinn admonishes, reaching out to bat her husband on the thigh as Brittany blows on her newly painted fingers. "Whatever you're teasing Tina about, stop it. And say sorry. You've made her go all pink."

Crossing his arms behind his head, Puck can't begin to smother the shit-eating grin that crosses his lips as Quinn settles back against his chest. "Sorry Tina," he apologises, insincerely, but then softens it with a wink.

Rolling her eyes, she sticks her tongue out at him and finds herself shifting enough that it makes Mike stir and his eyelids flutter open. Sitting up, he holds Beth gently. "Everything okay?" he turns and asks Tina with a yawn, accepting it when she simply nods and not arguing as Quinn reaches out for her daughter; he presses a kiss to the top of the sleepy girl's curls before letting her go. Arms free of toddler but still yawning, he pulls Tina down so her head is pillowed on his chest instead and his own head rests on Kurt's folded up jacket. "Close your eyes," he murmurs to her, arms wrapping tightly around her body. "It's sunny and warm and we're with our friends."

Cracking open an eyelid, she sees Puck watching them with an amused expression on his face, and a curse tickles the edge of her tongue, but she bites down on it, instead closing her eyes and breathing in the comforting scent of Mike. Feeling the sun leach into her body, she sighs and just lets herself relax.

xXx

The day had ended up with everyone back at their place and pizza being ordered in. Matt had even joined them after his shift, dragging Sam along, and as soon as Kurt found that out he had been on the phone to Mercedes, convincing her to put in an appearance. In the end, wine and beer had ended up flowing and Mike and Tina had waved everyone off just after midnight, red cheeked with sun and fun and alcohol.

Collecting up glasses, Mike watches Tina as she straightens up the couch, fluffing up cushions and folding the throw over the back. He's just setting the glasses in the sink and turning on the hot water when he feels her arms slide around his waist and Tina's cheek press against his back. "Hey," he acknowledges softly. "You okay? You've been kind of quiet since we got back from the park."

"Mm… just tired," she reassures him, but then he can hear her take a quick breath in, as though stealing herself for something. "Can I talk to you?"

He would be lying if he said the words didn't strike fear in him and make his heart start beating painfully hard against his ribs, but he tries to keep calm, reaching out for a dishtowel to wipe dry his hands. Calmly he asks, "What's up?"

Reaching down, she holds his hand, and her eyes stay fixed on their tangled fingers instead of looking him in the face. "Remember when we had our b-big talk, and we said it was important to m-make sure we're on the same p-page in our relationship?"

"Yeah," he says, but his stomach is clenching and it feels like someone's let off a jar of spiders in there. "I remember."

He's calmed slightly when she leans forward, resting her forehead against his chest. "And you remember we said that we'd only t-talk seriously about kids when we were b-both ready?"

The subject seems to come from nowhere and it makes his heart lurch, prompting his hands to reach up, cupping her cheeks in his palms. "Tina, is there something you need to tell me?"

Shaking her head, she allows him to tip her chin upwards so she's finally looking him in the eye. "No I didn't mean… j-just seeing you today, with Beth and w-with everyone I j-just realised… I'm ready."

He's confused for a second, and finds himself echoing, "Ready?"

Smiling shyly, she nods her head. "To g-get pregnant. With you."

He knows he must look like an idiot with his mouth hanging open, because then her hands are up and clutching at the front of his t-shirt and she's talking to fill the silence. "I'm n-not saying that to put any p-pressure on you, I promise. If you're n-not there yet that's okay but… I just wanted to let you know, I am."

His arms wrapping around her in a flash is enough to make her squeak with surprise. He squeezes her hard, kissing her with such abandon that when he pulls away they're both breathless. "Okay," he tells her with a grin.

"Okay?"

"You think I'm going to say no?" he asks with a laugh, picking her up and spinning her around in the middle of the kitchen. "Tina, I love you. I want to be with you 'til I'm old and grey and popping wheelies in my wheelchair. And I'd love to do that surrounded by all our grandchildren. So… okay. Let's do this."

Tina looks at him, and then starts giggling, pressing her hands over her mouth. "What do we d-do next?" she asks, words sneaking out between her fingers. At Mike's arched eyebrow, she laughs again, shaking her head. "No, no, I mean… I know w-what we _do, _I mean… is that it? Is that all it t-takes?"

Mike laughs then as well and abandoning the dishes, takes her hands and pulls her over in the direction of the couch; they both sit cross-legged, facing each other. "No. For one thing, you're still on the pill."

Tina nods her head, tangling their hands together. "But if I come off the p-pill, how long do you think it'll take?"

Tracing a pattern in the centre of her palm, he shrugs one shoulder. "For the pill to work its way out of your system and your cycle to regulate itself it usually takes around three months. But getting pregnant could happen sooner than that or -" he squeezes her hand gently, "it could take longer. We'll just have to wait and see."

Picking their joined hands up, Tina presses a kiss to Mike's knuckles. "I c-can be patient," she tells him with a nod. "But I'll stop taking my pill tonight? At least g-get the ball rolling?"

"Of course," Mike tells her, leaning forward and kissing her softly, their hands still joined between their bodies. "Tina, I love you."

"I love you too," she tells him with a smile. "So, Doctor Chang, what do I n-need to know?" she teases. "What can you tell me that I don't already know?"

Reaching up, he brushes the hair back from her face, his fingers lingering on her cheek and making her skin tingle. "The normal stuff," he tells her. "When you get pregnant there are going to be things that happen, things you feel. Things you can and can't do."

"Like what?"

Taking a deep breath, Mike's eyes flicker skyward and his rubs the back of his neck, as though pulling information from a far distant well. "Uh…No more sushi," he teases with a gentle smile. "And your bungee jumping plans are going to have to go on hold."

"D-darn," she grins back. "What else?"

"No drinking, no real coffee or anything with too much caffeine, avoid nuts – although that advice keeps changing – take vitamins, folic acid. No contact sports."

Leaning forward, she presses her lips again his softly. "What c-counts as a 'contact sport'?" she asks with a not-at-all-subtle wink, tracing a finger down the side of his jaw. Then, scooting forward, she ends up straddling his lap, her arms looping behind his neck. "Is this c-contact?"

Laughing deep in his chest, Mike nuzzles her neck, "It's definitely contact," he acknowledges. "But I think we need more of this kind of contact in order to worry about the other, 'kay?"

"Mmm," Tina murmurs in agreement as Mike's lips flutter against her pulse point, sending shivers up and down her back. "You're the doctor."

Mike's hands slide from her back down to her hips, and he massages the skin there. "These'll change," he tells her, his thumb sweeping back and forth. "Get wider, rounder."

"There g-goes my p-perfect bikini body," she laughs, reaching down to pat her own stomach, rubbing gently. "I'm g-guessing it's not as easy to snap back to a size two as the m-magazines make it look."

Pulling back from her neck, Mike wrinkles his nose in distaste. "Please tell me you will never be a size two unless you are seriously ill," he asks her. "I know some women are that naturally but…" sheepishly, he shrugs his shoulders. "I like you the way you are."

Raising one eyebrow in a sardonic arc, Tina reaches up and pats his cheek. "Probably n-not a smart thing to say to the g-girl who you're intending to kn-knock up," she points out. "I'm n-not going to stay the way I am. You said it yourself."

"Fair point," he concedes. "But you know what I mean."

Laughing, Tina cups both his cheeks and kisses him squarely on the mouth. "Mike, you like b-boobs. And ass. And hips. Curves. Believe me, I understood that p-point a _long_ time ago." As if to punctuate her point, she wriggles in his lap. "Now t-take me to our bedroom and knock me up already w-would you please?"

Standing up, he offers his hand with a wink and a wide smile. "Whatever my lady wants."

xXx


	18. Chapter 18

One of my favourite things about Glee is the fantastic friendships it sets up. Part of what I have enjoyed about this story is getting to play with all of them. I hope you all continue to enjoy.

To my one and only Chickee. I wish we could snug together and tell bedtime stories! I miss you. Thank you for everything you have done for me, this story, and Tike! xx

xXx

When Mike gets back from his shift it's after midnight and he's not exactly feeling his best; one of his repeat patients had been back _again_,after drinking too much _again, _and had managed to puke all over Mike before getting his stomach pumped. Despite showering at work, Mike's fairly certain he still stinks like whiskey and vomit. On top of that, he knows Tina's out at Artie's in Brooklyn talking over pieces for the show. He doesn't mind, he was just looking forward to seeing her face when he got home.

Trudging up the stairs, Mike slides his key in the lock, giving the door a slight kick with his foot when it sticks. He's just tossed his backpack onto the floor and is shrugging off his jacket when he looks up, and freezes mid-movement.

As perfectly silent as he can manage, he steps back out of the door, pulling it to behind him. His heart is beating hard in his chest when he reaches into his pocket and dials on his phone. Pressing it to his ear, Mike listens to it ring for a few cycles before being picked up.

"Hey," Tina's voice is bright and warm and happy, and it makes his heart slow down a little. "You home? I'm in a c-cab now."

He takes a beat before answering. "I just got in. Hey Tee?"

"Yes babe?"

Leaning back on the wall, he scrubs a hand through his hair. "I'm not exactly sure, but we may be the victims of the weirdest break-in in history."

He can hear her fumble her phone and curse; he feels bad for making her panic. "Are you okay?" she asks, her voice tight. "Should I call 911?"

Shaking his head even though he knows she can't see it, Mike assures her, "I'm okay. I just walked in and… there's a guy asleep on our couch."

"What?!"

"There's a guy asleep on our couch. The door isn't broken or anything so I don't know how he got in but - "

There's a relieved sigh on Tina's end that cuts off his words, and then she's asking, "Tall guy? B-brown hair? Flannel shirt?"

"I think?"

"Smells like motor oil?"

"You really think I'm going to go in there and _smell _him?"

There's a laugh at that and then, "Does he have stuff with him?"

Pushing the door open ever so quietly, Mike peeks inside the apartment to where the man is still asleep; his feet hang off the edge of the couch and a jacket is thrown atop a bag at the side. "Yeah, green duffle bag with an 'F' stitched on the side."

He's relieved and confused when Tina starts laughing and cursing at the same time. "I should have known – it's their anniversary this weekend…" she seems to say to herself and then, "It's n-not a criminal, it's a m-moron," she promises. "D-don't wake him up – he's probably had a long trip. I'll be home in t-ten minutes." She's still chuckling and it's enough that he pushes the door open again and tiptoes through the apartment, heading for the bathroom.

Reaching his destination, he closes the door behind him with a snick. "You want to tell me who the moron is who's apparently broken in and is sleeping on my couch?"

"He hasn't broken in – he has a k-key. And hang on, I j-just have to text Kurt."

Hopping up on to the counter, he frowns into the middle distance. "Right now?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because the idiot sleeping on the couch? That's his brother."

xXx

Tina texts Mike when she's outside of the apartment and so he's lingering in the hallway when she opens the door. He's towelling his hair off, long legs clad in sweats and t-shirt clinging slightly to his still-damp skin when he sees her drop her purse on the kitchen table and roll her eyes before taking a surprising leap onto the sleeping man.

The stranger wakes with a start and a yelp, but seems to recognise Tina straight away because then he's yelling her name and cursing and she's leaning down to hug him despite his protests. "You could've given me a heart attack!" the man grouses.

"Like you g-gave my boyfriend when he f-found you in our house without warning?"

She climbs off of him enough that he can sit upright; he's rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand and looking distinctly rumpled. "Shit, I'm sorry," he manages, stifling a yawn. "I got into town and realised I didn't have Kurt's new address… I just needed somewhere to crash."

"Why d-didn't you call?" she asks, reaching out and punching him in the hard in the shoulder. Mike winces on his behalf, but the tall guy just laughs slightly and rubs where she hit him.

Reaching into his pocket with his free hand, he holds up his cell phone. "Battery died. I'm sorry, Tee, I didn't even think you wouldn't be the first one home. I just… it's their ten year anniversary. Do you know how disturbing it is to walk in on your Mom trying to pick underwear that'll most make your stepfather want to do her? I had to get out of Lima."

He shudders as Tina begins to laugh uproariously. Looking over then, she sees Mike still standing in the hallway. "You don't need to apologise to m-me," she assures the man. "J-just say sorry to Mike – he almost called the c-cops on you." Holding her hand out towards the hallway, she prompts Mike forward. "Mike, come m-meet Kurt's idiot brother, Finn. Finn, this is Mike."

The two men shake hands awkwardly; it's not every day you find a random man asleep in your house or equally get woken up after breaking into another man's house and falling asleep on the couch. "I'm sorry dude," Finn starts with a shrug, pulling himself upright and _wow, _okay, Mike's glad he didn't end up being a random robber because this guy is _tall. _"I didn't mean to freak you out. I know Kurt moved out but I got into town at like, eleven, and this is the only place I can remember how to get to. Well, except that diner with the awesome curly fries but I don't think they'd let me sleep there."

Mike smiles at that, nodding his head. "I'm just glad I didn't come at you with the baseball bat," he admits wrapping his arm around Tina's shoulders, still feeling some aftershocks of protectiveness.

She grins at that, leaning into his side. "I don't think we have a b-baseball bat."

"Lucky for me," Finn replies, and stretching his arms above his head, he yawns widely. "Look, I know I'm an idiot for not calling ahead but you mind if I crash here tonight? I promise to get out of your hair first thing in the morning." Finn levels what Mike thinks must be his attempt at puppy-dog eyes in Tina's direction, but all they do is make her laugh.

"Of c-course you can stay, stupid," she tells him, reaching out for his wrist. Wrapping her fingers around his skin, she tugs gently. "And here, you d-don't have to sleep on the couch. You can sleep in Kurt's room. There's n-not a bed right now but there's a mattress on the floor. It has a sheet and p-pillows on it and there's a blanket folded on the chair."

Leaning down, Finn presses a kiss to Tina's forehead. "You're the best," he tells her, ruffling her hair in a way that makes her yelp and swat at him, but Mike laugh. "I'm gonna crash but I'll catch you guys in the morning okay? And thanks again."

The door closes behind Finn and then Tina is turning to Mike, smoothing her hair back behind her ears. "Hey," she says to him finally, wrapping her arms around his waist and breathing in the clean scent of his skin. "So not quite the n-night you had planned?"

"Not quite," he admits. "Mine had less random guys and more naked you."

"Mmm," she sighs, and Mike knows it's a negative response because when he looks down her eyes are closed and she breathes in deeply. "It's late," she demurs, snuggling even closer when he lifts a hand to stroke down her hair. "I'm sorry, babe."

"Hey hey," he argues, cupping her cheek in his hand. "You never have to apologise for saying no, okay?"

Nodding, she stands on tiptoes and kisses the corner of his mouth. "I'm really tired."

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he lifts her so her legs go around his hips, arms laced behind his neck. "Then bed, Spider Monkey," he tells her.

xXx

The next morning when Mike gets up he finds Finn already awake and drinking coffee at the kitchen table. "Morning," Finn greets, hair sticking up at the back and flannel shirt already on, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He looks much more rested than when Mike had seen him the previous night.

"Morning," Mike replies with a nod, yawning wide enough to make his jaw pop.

"There's coffee in the pot."

"Thanks."

Reaching out for the pot, Mike pours himself a mug full, breathing in the deep, bitter scent before taking a large mouthful. Leaning against the counter, he mainly concentrates on the feel of the caffeine coursing through his veins until his musings are interrupted by the sound of a gentle, purposeful cough. Lifting his eyes from the dark liquid, his gaze crashes with Finn's, who is regarding him with speculation.

"So," the taller man begins, sitting up straight and resting his arm over the back of the chair next to him; it makes his chest look wide and his shoulders broad. "Should, like, you and I be having a talk?"

Mike can feel his eyebrows furrow. "I… don't know?" He's kind of confused because literally, he met the other man for five minutes the night before and he can't imagine what exactly they'd have to converse about.

Finn, however, seems to know exactly what he's talking about; he cocks his head to the side and raises one shoulder. "Tina's been living with Kurt since she was fifteen, did you know that?"

It feels a little strange to have a person he doesn't even know tell him things about his girlfriend and so Mike sinks into the chair opposite Finn, folding his hands in front of him. "She's told me," he replies with a firm nod. "And we talked about why."

Finn looks somewhere between awkward and relieved – his face twists and he shifts in his chair. Losing a fraction of his intimidation he nods. "Good. Okay." There's a pause during which Mike says nothing, simply drinking his coffee and waiting for the taller man to continue; he can tell Finn's formulating his next thought by the way his face twists and he taps his fingers on the edge of the table. "When my Mom started dating Kurt's dad I wasn't the nicest to Tina. I mean, I wasn't the nicest to Kurt either but I at least… I understood why I had to put up with him. My Mom loved Burt and Kurt was Burt's kid but… I was pretty pissed about having to take on the weird goth kid as my sister too."

The words make Mike's back stiffen; he can feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "Okay," he says simply, his words clipped. "What did you want to talk about?"

Mike can hear the curt edge to his voice, and he knows Finn recognises it too, because he stops his fingers drumming and leans back in his chair. "Look, I'm not that seventeen year old asshole anymore. I was forced to get to know Tina and now she's like my sister, okay? I mean, like the sister my parents adopted from Korea and I used to find vaguely hot but, well, I care about her."

The words make Mike chuckle and he finally feels some of the tension lift from his shoulders. "You're sure it's a 'used to'?"

Nose wrinkling, Finn nods vehemently. "When my Mom moved in with Burt, Tina used to walk around in her underwear. I was seventeen."

"She still does that you know," Mike grins, looking over his shoulder as he hears movement in the bedroom.

"Yeah, but she's family now. I swear."

Both men take a long sip of their drinks and then Mike arches an eyebrow. "Weren't you meant to be giving me the 'protective brother' speech?" he asks, leaning back and crossing his legs, ankle resting on his knee.

Shrugging his shoulders, Finn smiles; part goofy and part shy. "Yeah… honestly this isn't really my thing. When we were in High School and had to meet Tina's boyfriends Kurt used to do all the talking – I'd just stand around, look tall and glare."

This makes Mike laugh properly; he can imagine Kurt having been pretty good with the acerbic quips. Hearing footsteps behind him, he's prompted to ask, "So, she dated lots, huh?"

"Uh uh, n-no ploughing for information," Tina's voice pipes up as she pads into the kitchen. A t-shirt of Mike's skims her thighs and as she slides onto his lap he can make out the purple panties underneath. Wrapping her hand around his mug, she steals a long drink of coffee before pressing a kiss to his lips. Then waggling a finger in Finn's direction, she frowns at him, "Don't forget all the things I kn-know about you."

Holding his hands up in a placating gesture, Finn laughs, "Okay, okay. Sorry bro," he addresses at Mike. Then in a stage whisper adds, "You'll have to ask Kurt when she's not around."

Reaching out and swatting him on the shoulder, Tina grouses, "Why are you still in m-my house?"

Standing up, Finn stretches his arms above his head before taking his mug and placing it in the sink. "I should actually go," he admits. "Kurt texted me his new address and I should get out of your hair."

"I'm kidding," Tina says, hopping up from Mike's lap and wrapping her arms around Finn from behind. "Seriously, you know you're w-welcome."

Ruffling her hair in a way that makes her squawk, Finn grins. "Kurt's expecting me for breakfast," he explains. "But hey – I saw your flier – I'm gonna stick around a couple extra days so I can see your show, okay?"

A blush spreads over Tina cheeks. "You d-don't have to," she tells him. "It's not a big deal."

Finn rolls his eyes as Mike frowns. "Don't sell yourself short," the taller man says, patting the top of her head and chuckling as though at his play on words. "And hey, did you tell Mom and Burt about it?"

Turning away from him, Tina runs water into the sink. "I m-mentioned it."

"Not enough," he tells her with a gentle push to the shoulder. "You know they would've come up."

"It's their anniversary," she scoffs. "And b-besides, it's expensive. They don't n-need to be spending their money on me."

"Are your parents in town?" he asks gently, reaching out for his jacket and shrugging it on over his shoulders. "They coming to see?"

Mike watches curiously as Tina pushes her hair back from her face and shakes her head. "They're in Peru. I think. The last phone call was k-kind of rough."

There's a long silence and then Finn's shouldering his duffel bag and leaning over to press a kiss to the top of Tina's head. "Alright, I'm out. I'll see you later Shorty. Mike," he says, addressing the other man, "It was nice to meet you. Sorry again about last night."

"No problem," Mike replies, standing up to shake Finn's hand. "I'll see you at the show."

Finn leaves with a snick of the door behind him, and then Mike's arms are wrapped around Tina's waist and he presses a kiss to the nape of her neck. "You w-want me to make more coffee?" she asks, a little distracted, rubbing her fingers over his joined hands.

"I'll do it in a second," he tells her. "I'm just wondering how many more men are going to give me the 'hurt her and I'll hunt you down' conversation."

It makes her laugh and she tips her head back onto his shoulder, looking at him upside down. "Is that what Finn was d-doing?" she smiles. "How did that go?"

"He admits verbal intimidation is not his strength," Mike grins, kissing the side of her neck. "But seriously, Kurt, Puck, now Finn. How many more?"

Wrinkling her nose, Tina pretends to consider it. "Well, you haven't m-met Burt yet. Or my Dad. So… at l-least two?" she teases, and then turning in his grip, wraps her arms around his neck. "But I love you for d-doing it," she tells him. "Does that make it better?"

Leaning down and kissing her lips – tasting coffee and just _Tina – _he hugs her against his chest. "Totally worth it," he assures her. Then, running his hands up the back of her bare thighs, he smiles at her. "So… you feeling any less tired this morning?"

Looking at the clock, Tina grins at him. "I have about an hour before I have to head b-back to the gallery. It's the preliminary hanging today."

"An hour?" he asks with an arched eyebrow and a quirked smile, his thumb skimming under the edge of her underwear. "I think I can work with that."

"You can huh?" Her hands work under his t-shirt, fisting the material in her hands. "Glad to hear it."

In the end, they don't even make it to the bedroom. He lifts her onto the counter and kisses her; her t-shirt is gone and then his, and then his sweats are off and she's biting his shoulder and gasping against his skin as his fingers slip into her underwear.

Twenty minutes later and they're sweaty, naked and wrapped up in each other's arms, sat back at the kitchen table. "I love you," he tells her, kissing down her neck, still working to catch his breath.

"I love you," she replies, smiling widely and cupping his cheeks as she kisses him. "But I have to go get ready to go."

As Tina slides off his lap, he grasps her hand. "You want me to come with? I don't work 'til tomorrow."

Leaning down to pick up her abandoned clothes, she shakes her head. "It'll be really boring. Besides," she says with a smile, raking her hand through his hair. "I w-want it to be a surprise."

Reaching out, he swats at her ass. "Go," he tells her. "I'll let you surprise me."

Snorting a laugh, Tina disappears into the hall. "As if I n-need you to let me!"

xXx


	19. Chapter 19

Hi everyone. Here for the New Year is the newest chapter of A Distant Wood/Dr Mike. I want to say thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story, reviewed, liked, followed, and generally just been so sweet. I really enjoy writing it but all the feedback really makes me enjoy it even more.

As always, major credit for this story being even half legible goes to my favourite and bestest cheerleader, editor and friend, my Chickee. Thank you ML. xx

Enjoy!

xXx

When Kurt arrives at Tina and Mike's apartment the evening of Tina's art show, he lets himself in the front door with the key he has yet to return. He's expecting to be met with a flurry of activity, but he _isn't _expecting to find Tina sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor in her robe, make-up half done and tears rolling down her face.

"Oh my God," he starts, kneeling down on the floor next to her, designer jeans be damned. "What happened- who died?"

"I g-got flowers," she tells him, pointing up at the table where a beautiful bouquet of multicoloured tulips sits in a sparkling vase. "From your D-dad and Carole." He's confused by the apparent non-sequitur, and particularly by the way it starts her bottom lip trembling again. "They w-wanted to t-tell me how proud they are."

He's completely confused and so does the only thing he can think of; he wraps her up in his arms, just praying she doesn't get mascara on his shirt. "We're _all _proud of you," he tells her firmly, pulling away enough to look her in the face. Her eyes are red and puffy and her face pale. "You know that, right? Me and Blaine and Quinn and Puck and Mike… where _is _Mike?"

Pulling herself up off the floor, Tina reaches out for a piece of paper towel and dabs at her eyes, waiting while Kurt unwinds himself from kneeling. He can see her shoulders still shaking as she speaks. "He got c-called into work. There was a b-big accident uptown and they n-needed all hands on deck. P-people are being diverted to lots of d-different hospitals and they're t-trying to triage at the scene so he w-wasn't sure whether they'd need him there or…" she trails off with a shrug.

"He isn't _coming?" _Kurt sounds aghast and tries to school his tone, but he knows his face must give away his complete surprise because Tina sniffs hard and nods her head.

"He was so sorry," she tells him, letting him come alongside her and take another piece of tissue, wiping the stray streaks of mascara from around her eyes and off her cheeks. "And he kn-knows how important this is to m-me… but it's p-people's lives," she shrugs her shoulders.

"So was it Mike or the flowers that made you cry? Really?"

"Really?" She sniffles hard, pushing her hair back from her face. "It was the flowers," she admits in a small voice. "I'm disappointed Mike can't come but… I knew what I was g-getting into when we got serious. I c-can't fault him for doing his job."

Tossing the tissue in the trash and therefore pronouncing her face no longer a disaster area, Kurt's brows crinkle into a frown. "Why on Earth did the _flowers _make you upset? You love tulips."

"My favourite," she nods with fervour. "Your dad remembered."

"So?" Reaching out to toy with her hair – presently free of coloured streaks – he's still completely bemused until she shrugs her shoulders and sighs a deep, weary sigh that sounds almost painful as she exhales.

Scuffing her red-painted toes on the kitchen floor she avoids his eyes. "My p-parents didn't even email to say good luck."

Understanding hitting him square in the chest, Kurt curses in his head and wraps her up firmly in his arms once again. Squeezing tight, he kisses her temple. "Maybe they will later. Maybe they're not near a computer right now. Or it isn't today yet where they are."

"Maybe," she agrees softly, but doesn't sound like she quite believes him. Pulling away, she wipes the last vestiges of tears from her lashes with a flick of her finger. "Anyways. It's n-not a big deal. It was r-really thoughtful of your Dad and Carole." Then rubbing at her cheeks, she checks the clock on the wall. "Shit!" she exclaims, pushing her hair back. "Why didn't you tell me what the time was?"

"Because I thought you could read a clock," he sasses, but off of her stressed look holds his hands up placatingly. "Calm down Tracy Emin, you have plenty of time. Now march your butt into your bedroom and show me what outfit you've picked while I repair your face."

"I'm really-" she starts, but Kurt silences her with a single raised palm.

"I said _I will fix your face," _he repeats, hands on her back and steering her towards the bathroom. "Come on, you can trust me. Now get in there and make yourself beautiful. Your adoring public is waiting."

xXx

"You certainly look the part," Kurt smiles as he crosses his arms over his chest, surveying his handiwork. Makeup repaired, Tina's hair has been swept across the top of her head in small braids, and secured under her ear leaving a curly ponytail tumbling over her shoulder. As she fixes her earring the sleeve of her purple-blue tie-dye style dress sweeps off her shoulder. Raising one eyebrow as Tina slides her feet into her shoes, Kurt presses his lips together. "Are you sure-"

"They're _fine," _Tina laughs, passing one last sweep of powder over her nose. "Kurt, I promise."

Fixing a loose tendril of Tina's hair with a bobby pin, Kurt simply arches an eyebrow pointedly. "You're going to be standing in them for hours."

"Yes, and I'll probably c-curse myself all day tomorrow, but for now they look p-perfect with this dress, okay?" Spinning around, she lets Kurt take in her whole outfit, from the dark smoky eyes to the impressively stacked peep-toe heels. "Now, do I have your approval?"

Scoffing, he holds out a crooked elbow for her to slide her arm into. "Always," Kurt tells her simply. "And I feel like a particularly lucky man today I get to escort you to your first show as a proper artist."

Leaning across, he presses a kiss to her cheek and she swats him away with a laugh, but blushes anyways. "Thank you for coming with me," she murmurs, hugging him gently so she doesn't put wrinkles in his vest or shirt.

"I wouldn't've missed it," he mumbles back, squeezing her once before pulling away and seeming to pull himself together with a big intake of air. "Not for anything." Smile hitched on his lips, he grabs her hand again and tugs. "Don't you dare start crying," he teases, seeing her chewing her bottom lip, and she sniffs hard, shaking her head. "I only just fixed your face."

She lets him pick up her purse and her coat and lead her out the front door, locking it behind them. They're down the stairs and out on the street and Kurt is hailing a cab when she grabs his forearm. "What if they hate my show?" she asks as a yellow taxi pulls up to their side. Kurt holds the door open for her and gives the driver the address of the gallery, the man cursing as he pulls off from the curb with a jolt.

Tina tumbles into Kurt's side and he helps her back upright with an eye roll. "They won't."

"They might."

Turning to face her, Kurt takes her hand in his. "Tina, you will never ever be able to produce something that's universally loved. I can't do it with my writing, you can't do it with your art, Mercedes can't make a dress that everyone thinks is stylish. You know what kind of reviews Rachel's Jesse gets sometimes." Seeing her face pale and her eyes widen, he squeezes her fingers in a reassuring manner. "But I _do _know that there are going to be people there who are amazed and moved by what you do, okay? Not just me and Blaine and Quinn and our friends but… just people. You're going to touch them in a very special way."

Tina sits stock still for a second, and then her façade seems to break; she lifts a hand to her mouth and giggles softly. "I'm going to touch them in a very special way?" she echoes, her shoulders shaking with stifled laughter, "Are you sure I w-won't get in trouble for that?" Hearing his own words parroted back, Kurt throws his hands up in the air.

"You are such a child!"

Still giggling, she rests her head on his shoulder. "Thank you," she tells him simply, staring out the window as the Manhattan streets slide by in a blur of colour and movement.

Kissing the top of her head, he wrinkles his nose. "You're welcome."

xXx

The gallery is teeming with people by the time Blaine arrives at the show. Straightening his tie, he edges his way through the crowd until he catches sight of dove-grey jeans and a crisp white shirt and then his hand is reaching out and wrapping around Kurt's wrist. "It looks amazing," he gushes after pulling his lips back from his boyfriend's. "Where's Tina?"

"Schmoozing," Kurt says with a grin, indicating with a tip of his champagne class to the other side of the large room where Tina stands, surrounded by a crowd who are laughing brightly and seem to be hanging on her every word. The two men stand and watch her for a moment, amazed that their friend –who had once been so painfully shy and terrified of strangers – could command such a crowd. Pointing at one of the tall men standing in the group, Kurt lowers his voice. "That's Azimio Adams. He's a reporter; he's writing up the show."

Blaine's eyes open wide in acknowledgement, and he's about to ask another question when he feels a hand on his arm and a pair of warm lips press against his cheek; a lock of pink hair falls in front of his eyes and he wraps an arm around the woman's shoulders. "Hi Quinn."

"Hi boys," she grins, looking gorgeous in a summery yellow dress and tan sandals, her hair twisted and pinned back at the nape of her neck. Looking over at where Tina still stands, she breaks into a bright grin. "She looks fantastic," Quinn gushes, reaching up to push a strand of hair behind her ear. "She texted me Mike couldn't come?"

This is news to Blaine, but he's relieved when Kurt nods his head, leaning in to press his lips against Quinn's proffered cheek. "Work. Apparently there was some kind of accident uptown?" he tells her, and she nods in agreement, as though this is what she has been told also. "She's being really sensible about it though – I thought she'd be upset."

"Me too," Kurt agrees.

Looking around the crowded room, Blaine cranes his neck for a better look at all the people. "Where's Puck?" he asks, curious. "I thought he was coming?"

Looking over her shoulder, Quinn shrugs lightly. "He was just finishing a call from his brother. He and his girlfriend are babysitting Beth tonight so Noah's freaking out… so I assume he's giving them a hard time or making Jake recite the phone number to the paediatrician's office again."

As if on cue, two glasses of wine appear in the air in front of Quinn, and then her husband is standing next to her, looking distinctly ruffled. "For you," he tells her, holding out one glass that she takes with a fond smile. "Sorry it took me a minute – some crazy drunk chick was trying to hit on me at the bar."

"Reeeeally?" Quinn asks with a smile, leaning into his side and wrapping her arm around his waist. "And what did you tell her?"

Rolling his eyes, Puck takes a sip of his wine and then wrinkles his nose at the dry taste. "I told her I was married. She said she didn't mind, I said I did, she said it was a shame and slapped me on the butt." Craning his neck to look behind him, Puck asks, earnest and honest, "Does my butt look especially good today or something?"

Quinn, Blaine and Kurt all find themselves looking – just to be sure – and are in that position when they're halted by a small coughing sound.

"Are we interrupting?"

Looking up, they are met with two blonds staring at them, one with a bright broad smile and swinging swathes of hair, and the other whose eyes are twinkling with amusement. "Hi!" Brittany greets, throwing herself at each of them in turn with honest, warm hugs. "Sorry we're late, I couldn't find the place!"

Edging in next to Blaine and shaking his hand in greeting, Sam admits in a small voice, "I found her wandering around when I walked up from the bus. She lost her phone again."

Brittany doesn't seem particularly phased by the fact she's been strolling around lost in Brooklyn, and takes a sip of the glass of wine Quinn offers her to share. She lets Sam help her off with her jacket and just pulls back when her eyes open wide and bright blue. "Wow, that guy is _tall." _

Her tone makes them all turn around and then the tall man – Finn – spies them over the crowds, his face scrunched in confusion. "A woman at the bar just told me she wants to climb me like a tree."

It makes laughter break over the group. "What did you say?" Quinn asks, having met Finn before when he's been visiting the city and his brother. She pats Finn's arm in sympathetic curiosity.

He half shrugs, taking a sip of the glass of champagne that looks almost child-sized in his large hands. "I think I just sort of snorted and walked away."

"Little blonde chick?" Puck asks, sliding his arm around Quinn's waist and smoothing his thumb across the soft material of her dress. "Southern?" At Finn's nod, Puck quirks an eyebrow. "Same one that tried it one with me."

"Who _is _this woman?"

There are a lot of shrugs and curious giggles and they've just begun to move onto other conversation – Quinn complimenting Brittany's dress and Kurt reaching up to straighten Blaine's tie and asking about work – when they are once again interrupted, and this time it's by a voice that is loud and brash and as southern as it is shocking.

"That is just a pipin' hot cup of something Mama likes!"

The group swivel their heads almost as one, and catch sight of the small blonde woman standing in front of one of Tina's photographs. One hand on her hip, she holds a large glass of wine in her free hand, angling it towards the photograph at an almost dangerous angle; it tips slightly and some of the liquid sloshes over the edge. She doesn't seem to notice.

"That's her!" Finn and Puck hiss in unison, and Quinn can't smother a giggle as she rubs Puck's arm consolingly, leaning into his side. Finn just hunches his shoulders slightly and edges closer to Blaine, as though trying to hide his massive frame behind him.

As he turns to look, Kurt seems to choke on his wine and there's a moment of confusion as Blaine pats his back and he sputters out his words. "Oh my God, don't you know who that _is?"_

There's a general look of confusion from the group until Blaine turns his head also, and his face seems to pale as he grabs Kurt's elbow. "It's _not," _he whispers, eyes widening, rising on the balls of his feet as though to get a better look.

Kurt nods his head vehemently. "I would recognise her _anywhere! _She's one of my style icons!"

It's finally Sam who interrupts their short-hand conversation. Running a hand through his thick blond hair, he addresses the rest of the group, "Am I the only one who has no idea what they're talking about?"

"I never know what they're talking about," Finn admits with a shrug. "I'm kind of used to it."

Rolling his eyes, Kurt smacks his brother lightly in the shoulder. "Do none of you ever pick up a magazine? That's _April Rhodes!" _

Quinn and Brittany's faces light up in recognition and they start a whispered conversation as they crane their heads to stare shamelessly at the small woman, but Puck, Sam and Finn all look none-the-wiser. "Never heard of her," Puck admits, reaching up to scratch the back of his head.

Blaine looks aghast. "You've never heard of her? She's… April Rhodes! Broadway _star! _She's been on the cover of Vogue, Icon, Marie Clare… she has two Tony awards and an Emmy!" Reaching up, he straightens his own tie – even though Kurt has just finished with it – as though at any moment she could look over and judge his outfit, and runs a hand over his well-gelled hair. "She's _beyond _talented."

"And drunk off her ass," Puck puts in with a nod, watching as the small woman reaches out to touch the bare skin on show in the photograph.

"Hey Wheels!" the blonde calls out, seemingly to no one, until a man in a wheelchair comes rolling up alongside her. "Come talk to me sugar."

"That's Tina's friend Artie," Kurt whispers to the group, conspiring. "This is his gallery; he's dealing with sales."

The group is huddled and silent and tense as they watch the blonde woman drape herself in Artie's lap, her arms wrapping around his neck as she points up at the picture. Wrinkling her nose, Quinn leans back slightly, trying to get a better look at the exhibition. "Which one is it she's looking at?" she asks curiously. "The sketches of the girls?"

Snorting a laugh, Kurt shakes his head, his eyebrows raised as he takes a sip of his wine. "The shower one."

The grin that takes over Quinn's face is knowing and amused. "Ah," she replies simply, nodding her head in acknowledgement. "_That _kind of art."

"Apparently," Kurt smiles back. "Why am I not surprised?"

The group stays together for a while, chatting and gossiping and stealing glances at the lascivious blonde woman, but eventually they disburse. Sam heads to the bar with Finn and Kurt, Quinn and Brittany go to wander around the exhibition, even though Kurt has seen all the pieces already. Puck's phone lights up with another call from his brother and he rolls his eyes as he picks up - "Hey bro… hypothetical question… what happens if a baby drinks a sip of beer?" – before he slips outside. Blaine gets a text from his co-worker Rachel and hides in the corner typing his reply.

Blaine has just looked up from his phone – having finished his message – when Tina appears through the crowds looking flushed and happy and excited. Spotting him, she throws her arms around him, and the lips that press against his cheek are sticky with champagne and gloss. "Blaine!" she greets with fervour. "D-do you like it? P-people seem to like it!"

Her grin is so wide and she sounds so proud that he wraps her up in his arms and spins her around, despite the ridiculously high heels. "It's fantastic," he tells her. "The gallery, the pieces, the crowd. And you look amazing," he compliments, earning a blush and a dip of her chin as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "I can't even believe I saw _April Rhodes_ checking out some of your stuff."

If possible, Tina's smile seems to grow and she grasps his hand hard in her own. "I know!" she squeaks. "Isn't it crazy? Apparently she heard about the show from some friend and n-now she's interested in c-commissioning a r-range of pieces. Can you believe it? April _Rhodes! _W-wanting _my _stuff!" She covers her mouth with both hands, unable to hide the way she beams. "Never in a m-million years could I have d-dreamed of this."

"I'm so happy for you," he tells her honestly. "Kurt and I are so proud of you. I know Mike will be too."

Her smile falters just for a second and she grips Blaine's hand. "Thank you," she says softly with another gentle kiss to the cheek. "N-now how long do I have to stand here before you offer to buy me a d-drink?"

Xxx

It's late and growing steadily dark by the time the crowds begin thinning out. Their group are the last remaining, waiting around for Tina and Artie to finish some sales business, the two of them staring at a computer screen and a notebook full of valuations.

"_Go," _Tina tells Kurt insistently, heels kicked off as she sits at the desk in the gallery's small office. "I won't be far behind you, you c-can get me a drink so it's there waiting."

"I don't want to leave you," Kurt argues, but his jacket is already on over his shoulders and he spares a glance behind him at where the others are congregated; Blaine's laughing at something Brittany's saying with a grin and a wave of her hands. "I'm happy to wait."

Rolling her eyes, Tina shakes her head. "Honestly, we j-just have to finish and then close up. I'll be fifteen minutes."

There's a silence and then, "You'll get a cab straight to Plato's?"

"Artie has a c-company on speed dial. I p-promise, I'll be fine." Some of her hair has come loose from its ponytail and spills over her shoulder. Reaching up, she twists a small tendril around her finger as she speaks.

It looks like Kurt might argue, but then Tina can hear Blaine's voice calling someone's name from outside of the office and turning his head towards the noise, a large grin spreads across Kurt's face. Reaching across the desk, he wraps his fingers around Tina's wrist. "Come here."

"I t-told you I needed to finish this," she argues as he pulls her up from her chair and around the desk. Letting go of her wrist, his hands go to her shoulder blades and push gently so she's walking towards the door. "_Kurt_," she whines, but he ignores her.

"Shh," he insists with a swat to the arm. "There's someone here to see you."

The gallery space is empty – the others already waiting on the sidewalk – and Blaine slips out of the door as he sees Tina enter the room. In the middle a tall man stands, a grey Stanford hoody, well-moulded jeans and sneakers making him look out of place in the middle the smart gallery, but the sight of him makes such a smile break over Tina's face. She finds herself rushing towards him, bare feet silent on the polished wood floor, her arms wrapping around his neck. "I thought you wouldn't make it."

Mike holds her back just as tightly, breathing in the scent of her perfume, of champagne and excitement. "I didn't want to miss it all," he murmurs into her skin. "I'm sorry I couldn't be here sooner."

Edging around them, Kurt's hand settles on Mike's shoulder briefly. "We'll see you at Plato's," he says softly, and then disappears, leaving the two of them alone.

Pulling back from the embrace, Tina lets Mike cup her chin, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. "The place looks amazing," he tells her, and then reaching up to tuck a curl behind her ear, he adds with a smile, "_You _look amazing."

Smiling shyly, she interlaces their fingers, swinging their arms gently between their bodies. "You w-want to see?" she asks softly, tipping her head towards the walls where her pictures still hang.

Mike's laughter is soft and coupled with a squeeze of her hand. "More than anything."

Tugging his arm, she brings him towards the first wall, where a collection of sketches are displayed in warm lighting. "This is about the d-dichotomy between the creative and destructive p-parts of passion," she explains to him. Pointing to the first picture – and he recognises the image of Puck and Quinn and Beth from a photograph he's seen before, all loving looks and pure exhausted joy – she tells him simply, "Creation." Then leaning back into his chest, she points towards the other set of pictures, "and destruction."

In a triptych frame three sketches are placed, each a close up of a different part of the face. First is a forehead and eyebrow, a cut running through the brow and skin leaving a stark, obvious scar. The second is an eye, bruised and swollen almost shut. The third is a pair of lips, broken and split down the middle. The starkness of each imagine is enough to steal Mike's breath for a moment – despite his occupation – because behind each wound he recognises the faces. "The girls?"

Tina nods succinctly. "They were really proud to be involved," she admits. "I wanted to invite them tonight but it was over 21 only."

Laughing, Mike presses a kiss behind Tina's ear. "Probably best," he suggests with a teasing smile. "I mean, heaven help us if Keisha got into the champagne."

It's enough to make Tina laugh and then she's taking him by the hand again and they're wandering along the pictures. There's a charcoal drawing of Sue and Jean Sylvester, an oil painting of the hospital with rain-bleary lights and rushing figures ("You're so passionate about your work – you and Sam and Matt and Santana. That kind of passion… it means something."). The large painting of her and Quinn at the Slut March protest stands in a place of pride in the middle of the exhibition, and finished it takes Mike's breath away as much as it did when she showed it to him over a month ago. "You…" he starts, but then seems unable to finish his sentence. He trails off, shaking his head, but then reaches up and cups her face in his hands, looking her straight in the eye. "I love you," he tells her simply. "That you can feel this and share this…" Leaning in, he kisses her hard until she's breathless and pressing her hands against his chest with a laugh.

"I love you too," she tells him. "Come on, I w-want you to see this one."

In the corner of the wall – seemingly private, enclosed – a black and white photograph hangs. For a moment Mike stares at it, taking it in; it's all long stretches of bare skin and dark hair and running water. Then he seems to realise who is featured and a blush takes over his skin. "Tina!" he hisses softly, embarrassed. "Is that you and… _me?" _

He vaguely remembers her taking the picture – sometime months ago when she'd just gotten a new camera and he just assumed she wanted to play with the features and functions for her own interest – but it's pretty surprising to see it displayed in the middle of an exhibit. That's open to the _public. _And _anyone _can see.

"Do you like it?" she asks, turning her head up expectantly. There's a shy smile on her face and the dim light from the mountings catches her skin and it seems luminous and bright.

Turning back towards the picture, he studies it again. The photograph is taken through the shower door, so it's blurred with water droplets, hiding both his and Tina's identity, though he's fairly certain any and _all _of their friends will have recognised them. In the picture Tina's arms are around his neck, his at her waist, and their lips together. There's nothing overtly sexual about the picture save the swathes of skin and the obvious curve of her naked breast, and with a deep breath and an objective eye, he can absolutely see why she included it in the show.

"It's a great photo," he admits, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. "But you couldn't have warned me?"

Laughing, Tina turns to face him, looping her arms around his neck in subconscious mirroring of the image. Their hips press together and they rock on their feet, gently swaying. "You m-might have said no," she explains. "It was easier just n-not to ask."

Leaning down, he presses a kiss to the arc of her pale neck, murmuring words into her skin. "Sneaky," he teases, his hand resting on the small of her back, thumb sweeping across the smooth, soft fabric. His kisses turn to a light nip, making her gasp and then laugh. "You owe me."

Letting one hand sneak under the heavy material of his hoody, Tina's fingers splay against his warm, bare abs. "I'm sure I c-can find a way to make it up to you."

Laughing lips find each other and then Tina's hands are creeping further under his sweatshirt, and his fists are bunching the silky material of her dress causing it to creep almost indecently upwards. "Mmm," Mike murmurs against her mouth. "Come on, let's get out of here. Blaine said the others were heading to Plato's."

Arching her neck as Mike's lips travel down from her cheek to her neck, Tina shakes her head and groans, softly. "I c-can't," she argues. "I'm m-meant to be finishing things here with Artie."

Mike's pulled away from her far enough that their hips are still touching but he can give her an impressive set of puppy dog eyes. He's about to try and change her mind when he's interrupted by the sound of slowly squeaking wheels. Artie's got one eyebrow raised and pushes his glasses up his nose with his index finger. "No, you really aren't," he argues. "In fact, I think you should probably get out of here before you start having sex on the floor and this becomes a very different type of display space than I intended."

Tina blushes furiously, reaching out to smack him on the shoulder. "Artie!" she hisses, rolling her eyes with a smile. "You are t-terrible."

Mike doesn't argue, but reaches out and laces his fingers together with Tina's. "We're heading to Plato's?" he tells Artie with a warm smile. "You should join us?"

Even though Artie smiles, Mike can see his face set to demur. "I'm meeting Harmony later," he explains, even though it partly sounds like a polite excuse. "You guys go and have fun. Tina – you were fantastic tonight."

Leaning down, Tina presses a kiss to both of his cheeks in a European-artistic fashion. "I owe it to you. Thank you so much."

He waves off her praise, instead reaching out to shake Mike's hand. "Good to see you again bro."

"Yeah, you too," Mike agrees, letting his arm slide around Tina's waist, his touch settling on her hip. At the feel of his hand, she smiles shyly up at him.

"You sure you d-don't want to come?" Tina tries one last time; she knows part of Artie's politeness is always based on being more difficult to travel around with and she wants him to know she doesn't care if it takes longer. She appreciates his friendship.

Still, he shakes his head. "Another time," he counters, and it's enough that Tina finally nods. "Now get out of here," he teases, waving his hands to shoo them away. "Get out of here and go and celebrate."

xXx

When they arrive at the bar- after about ten minutes making out against the rough brick of the building's wall, all exploring hands and teasing lips- they are met with a resounding cheer and glasses of Prosecco are quickly pressed into their hands.

Before Tina's even had time to take a sip she has scarlet lips pressing against her cheek. "Congratulations!" Santana's voice rings out. She looks about as exhausted as Mike, but has clearly tried to hide it behind a full face of makeup and a wide smile. "Brit said it was amazing. I'm so sorry I couldn't come."

Leaning into Santana's sideways embrace, Tina rubs the other woman's back. "I understand. Mike t-told me what happened. Are you okay?"

Flipping her hair behind her shoulder, Santana moves just out of Tina's reach and takes a long pull of her beer. Shrugging lightly, she sighs. "I'll feel better after I get a few of these in me." Finishing her drink, she wipes her lips lightly with her fingertips. "You want something else or you good with the bubbles?"

Tina's just lifted her glass to her lips when a sudden thought occurs to her, and she can feel her face flushing bright red. "I, uh… I think I'm okay. B-but thanks. I'm uh, I'm g-good."

Santana gives her a curious look but nods her head, moving towards the bar.

In the next instant, Tina is across the dance floor and tugging Mike away from a conversation with Puck and Kurt. "Sorry," she apologises to the other men over her shoulder as she pulls Mike to the side.

Once they're in the corner, Mike's looking at her with knitted brows, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek. "Are you okay?"

Eyes wide open, Tina holds her glass up towards him. "I was _drinking _this!"

He's clearly confused, his hand reaching out to take the glass; he sniffs at the liquid inside. "It's Prosecco. You like Prosecco. And Sam couldn't afford real champagne."

Rolling her eyes, Tina puts the glass down on the table next to her and moves so her body is pressed against Mike's. Mouth right next to his ear, she whispers sharply, "I thought… you know… b-because we're _trying. _I thought drinking was a b-bad idea?" Pulling back slightly, Mike watches as Tina worries her ruby painted bottom lip between her teeth, her eyes wide and dark. At her almost guilty expression – and the way her hand rubs absently across her stomach – he finds himself leaning in and kissing her lips lightly.

"Hey," he assures her. "You haven't don't anything wrong."

Taking a deep breath, she tangles their fingers together. "You sure?"

Using his free hand, he brushes a loose tendril of her hair behind her ear and keeps his voice low as he responds, despite the loud, upbeat music. "You've only been off your pill for a few weeks - "

"A month," she interjects. "It's been a month."

"Still," he continues, weighting his words. "The likelihood of you being, you know, pregnant… it's slim. And even if you _are," _he assures her, at her still worried expression, "a couple glasses of champagne aren't going to do any lasting harm right now."

Exhaling with relief, Tina squeezes his fingers. "You're _sure?"_

Laughing, he leans in, kissing her lips again, tasting the bubbly tartness if the champagne mixed with the familiar sweet citrus tang of her lip gloss. "I know my OB rotation was a million years ago, but I remember the basics. I promise, you're fine."

She's just leaned into him – a grin on her lips as she kisses him, her hands fisting his sweatshirt – when they are interrupted by the feel of cold chips of ice scattering down on them, hitting sides of cheeks and shoulders. "Changsters!" Santana's voice calls out. "Quit sexing and get your butts over here – we're supposed to be celebrating!"

Pulling away from each other, Tina and Mike share a small, knowing smile. Picking up her glass, Tina wets her lips with the alcohol.

xXx

Mike's up dancing with Brittany, the two of them in hold, twirling around the makeshift dance floor to some 60s bubblegum pop. Tina sits next to Kurt in the booth, her head on his shoulder and a topped-up glass in front of her, watching the two with a smile on her face. She catches gazes with Santana at the bar – who hasn't quit teasing Sam about Mercedes since she arrived – and both women grin and roll their eyes, knowingly amused.

She's just considering closing her eyes when Blaine – sat across the booth – half stands and begins waving, his hand held up high so he can be seen over the crowds. "Rachel! Rachel! Over here! Hi!"

At the sound of a bright laugh and heels clacking on the floor, Tina sits upright, a smile spreading across her face. "Rachel!" she greets, rising from the booth in order to throw her arms around the small brunette in the grey pencil skirt and flimsy white blouse, a grey and black cardigan over her shoulders and white socks reaching up to her knees. Her hair is dark with side-swept bangs and falls across her face as they hug.

"Tina! It's been too long!" she greets, squeezing the other woman tightly. "I wanted to come to the show – Blaine told me it was amazing – but I've been in court all day!" She speaks in exclamation marks, all bright excited punches of sound, combined with warm, vigorous hugs dished out to Kurt and Blaine and Quinn – caught as she wanders by the table.

Interrupting his and Brittany's dance, Tina waves Mike over with enthusiastic impatience, introducing the two. At the sight of his body – hoody eschewed and threadbare tank top the only thing underneath – Rachel winks at Tina and then breaks into laughter. Quinn sits next to her and quickly the three women dissolve into shoptalk; maternity and paternity care for same sex adoptive parents.

Wandering by with a fresh beer, Puck catches sight of them and snorts a laugh. His hand on Mike's shoulder he squeezes once. "Get used to it," he tells him, his words sounding long suffering yet amused. "Whenever they're together this is what happens. You might dream about lingerie and pillow fights, but seriously – it's all work."

Mike laughs as Quinn reaches up – hardly breaking in her conversation – and smacks him in the stomach.

Puck fake collapses onto the next person who passes him – which happens to be Finn, laden down with a beer in each hand. "Whoa, what did I miss?" the taller man wonders, propping Puck back on his feet and trying to lick the trail of sticky hops that is working its way down his wrist.

With a dismissive wave of her hand, Quinn barely spares her husband a passing glance. "Puck's being a chauvinist."

"And besides," the voice next to Quinn pipes up earnestly. "When my two gay dads adopted me, they had to go unpaid for six months. What would they have done if that wasn't financially viable? It's an important issue!"

Setting sights on Rachel, Finn takes a long pull of his beer and reaches up, fiddling with the buttons on his plaid shirt. "Totally," he agrees, completely at a loss as to their conversation. "Really important."

Sharing a look, Tina and Quinn barely manage to suppress their giggles.

xXx

Quinn and Puck are the first to leave after a final phone call from his brother's girlfriend, Marley, asking where they keep the Band-Aids. Her promise that Beth is fine and _Jake's_ the one who's bleeding doesn't do much to comfort them.

Santana and Brittany head off next with Sam in tow – the two blonds with their arms wrapped around Santana's waist, the combination of a long day, no sleep and one too many beers making her wobbly and exhausted.

Kurt holds out Tina's jacket for her, helping her into the sleeves as Blaine settles up the last of the tab and Mike pats himself down for his wallet and keys. After grabbing his own scarf and winding it around his neck, Kurt calls over to his brother, who sits at one of the spindly-legged tables, a half-full beer in his hand and his long legs stretched in front of him, fully involved in the conversation he and Rachel are having.

"Finn – we're going. You ready?"

Looking down at his beer, and then over at Rachel's still mostly-full wine glass, Finn shrugs his shoulders. "I think I'm just gonna stay and finish this," he says easily, stretching his arms above his head. "You guys calling it a night?"

"I have court in the morning," Blaine says apologetically, buttoning up his jacket.

"And I have a meeting with the design department," Kurt adds. "Not all of us can be managers of our own garage and make our own hours."

"Rach, you coming? Mike and Tina don't live far from you – only a couple blocks down."

"We'd be happy to w-walk you," Tina agrees, letting Mike's arm settle around her waist. "I love the b-bagel place by your apartment."

There's a moment's hesitation as Rachel licks her lips, but then she's picking up her glass of wine and shaking her head. "Thank you but I'm going to stay. No use wasting good wine. Besides, some of us don't have to be in the office 'til one tomorrow afternoon to finish reports."

It's said with an over-exaggerated wink in Blaine's direction and he groans in response. "Jealous."

"I'll bring you a Medium Drip when I come in?"

"Deal," he grins.

Goodbyes are said in a flurry of hugs and handshakes and kisses on evening-warm skin. Mike and Tina wave Blaine and Kurt off in a cab and then head home hand-in-hand through the dimly lit streets.


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 20 for all of you! I know I left you kind of in the lurch with the last chapter and so I hope you enjoy this next part.

I also wanted to say thank you to each and every one of you who have left reviews, liked, followed or commented. Every bit is so much appreciated – believe me, I fangirl over every message I get. So THANK YOU!

Another thank you as always to my ML, without whom this would just be a big pile of drivel. x

XxX

The minute they get home Tina kicks off her shoes, peels off her dress and staggers into the bathroom. It takes only a few more minutes for her hair to come down and her face to be carefully wiped free of makeup – dark smears in a cool white cloth – and then she's collapsed against her pillows in her underwear, flexing her toes.

Sitting down at the foot of the bed, Mike's fingers travel up and over her ankle, lightly brushing the skin before moving so his thumb rubs gently but firmly along the base of her foot. Leaning her head back against the pillows, Tina moans softly, causing Mike to arch an eyebrow and grin up at her. "Feels good?"

Nodding her head, Tina pushes her now-loose hair back from her face, taking a deep breath as his thumb hits a knot in her arch. "I hate to say Kurt was right b-but I really regret wearing those shoes…" she laughs softly, rubbing at her eyes. "I d-don't think I can move."

Leaning down, he presses a kiss to her hip, just above the lacy waistband of her underwear. "Mmm… maybe you don't have to."

Giggling as his lips move along the trim, kissing and nibbling at her skin, Tina's hands thread through Mike's hair. "Aren't you exhausted?" she asks gently as he stretches out his body next to her, his sneakers kicked off and his hoody thrown to the floor. The denim of his jeans is rough against her bare skin. "You've had a really long d-day, Mike."

Reaching up to trail his thumb across her navy-cupped breast, he exhales into her ear; a tickle of air sends shivers up her spine and goosebumps break across her skin. "I can always find energy for you," he tells her simply, and then captures her lips as she turns to smile at him, one leg finding its way between hers and his hands coming up to twist in her hair. "You were so amazing tonight."

She kisses him back – breathless with bodies arching and murmurs of encouragement – when all of a sudden the sound of 'Single Ladies' blares through the room. It startles Tina so much that she bangs her lip into Mike's teeth and pulls away cursing.

"_Tee_- " Mike's voice is whining as she reaches for the phone, one hand wrapping around her midsection and trying to tug her back towards him, but she laughs and bats his hand away.

"It might be important. Hello?"

"Did I leave my wallet in your purse?" The question is direct but distracted, and Tina rolls her eyes both at Kurt's complete lack of timing and at the way Mike's fingers are working at the clasp on the back of her bra.

"Mmmhmm," she murmurs positively – both in answer to Kurt's question and in encouragement of Mike's actions. "It r-ruined the line of your outfit, remember? You prefer that people d-don't have to use their imagination when they see you in those jeans."

"Shut up," Kurt's voice is both teasing and tired, and Tina feels a moment of guilt for keeping him out so long when he also works such long hours as it is. "I'm just glad you have it. I was dreading calling Finn and getting him to crawl around the bar looking for it."

Bra straps being slid down her arms, Tina's eyelids flutter shut at the feel of Mike's warm lips pressing against her shoulder, but another thought comes into her mind. "Hey, I forgot to ask, where was Jesse tonight?"

"Who's Jesse?" Mike whispers against her neck, hands reaching around to cup her breasts, squeezing slightly when she doesn't answer. "Tee?"

"Rachel's," she mouths, hearing Kurt turn and talk to Blaine on the other end of the line. "Long story."

He seems to accept this as an answer because his lips go back to their ministrations along her neck, but then Kurt is answering and Tina has to drag her attention back to the phone call. "Blaine says they're in an 'off-again' week. Who knows with those two?"

Laughing, Tina leans back into Mike's touch so her back is pressed against his warm, bare chest. "How does she still n-not realise he's crazy about her?" she sighs. It's not the first time she and Kurt have had the conversation, but his answer is always the same.

"For someone so smart, sometimes Rachel's really stupid. Anyways – I won't keep you – it's late and you had a long day. I'll grab my wallet tomorrow okay?"

"Okay. Love you Kurt."

"Love you too Single Lady. And I'm really proud of you okay? Now go to sleep."

"Bye."

Mike's broad hands massage her shoulders and she arches into his touch. As he hits a sore spot at the base of her neck she hisses and twists into him, and he replaces his hands with his lips, kissing the point gently as his thumbs make sweeping circles against her skin.

Tina finds herself shivering, making her cheeks and chest flush. Mike's hands move from her back to her hips, turning her over and pressing her back against the pillows. They alternate between kissing and giggling at nothing in particular, rubbing the tips of their noses together, and Mike's just edging Tina's underwear down her legs when they are interrupted _again _by the sound of the phone.

Both of them cursing, Mike apologises as he removes his hands from her body, sliding into the pocket of his jeans and pulling out his cell. "Matt," he mouths as he picks it up, rubbing his thumb across the inside of Tina's thigh; it makes her giggle and have to cover her mouth with her fingers. "Hey dude, what's up?"

There's a sigh on the other end of the phone and the sound of speakers and lots of foot traffic. "Did you order the full blood panel on Mrs. Singh?"

Lowering his head to press a kiss to the inside of Tina's knee, Mike's brows knot. "Mrs. Singh? No, she had a broken arm. I set it and sent her to get a cast."

"Well Lauren's on my ass – apparently someone ordered a full panel without signing the chart."

Tina's fingers stroking through his hair- Mike has a hard time concentrating- but closes his eyes so he can respond to Matt's words. "I swear it wasn't me. I signed her off just before I left." Running his tongue along Tina's smooth skin, Mike's just about to make his excuses to get off the phone when a realization seems to appear out of nowhere. "Hang on," he says, pulling his mouth away from Tina in a way that makes her pout. "Was this Mrs. Singh, 32, or Mrs. Singh, 67? I signed mine off but I'm pretty sure she came in with her mother."

"Katzatori's patient?"

"Trey's, I think," Mike corrects, a finger pressed to his lips as Tina begins to softly whisper his name, trying to encourage his hands or mouth to move. "But I'm pretty sure he had that med student – uh… Sugar I think? – he had her covering the minor cases."

Mike can hear Matt's voice in the background, and a low female reply he assumes is the head of the phlebotomy lab. "Okay. Alright, thanks bro. Sorry I called so late – how did Tee's thing go?"

Grinning up at Tina, Mike presses a long, wet kiss to the inside top of her thigh, nipping lightly. "It was great, you wanna say congrats yourself?"

"Is she awake? Sure!"

Giving Mike complete evil eyes, Tina takes the phone from him and tries to hitch a smile on her face as Mike's tongue flickers from between his lips and brushes across her heated skin. She twists her hips towards his questing mouth. "Hey Matt."

"Tina! Hey, how did your thing go? I'm really sorry I couldn't make it.

Nodding her head, Tina feels flattered at the honest tone of disappointment in Matt's voice. "It's okay," she tells him. "Mike and San t-told me what happened. I'm surprised you're still standing – are you g-going home soon?"

There's a pause – a hesitation – and then Matt's replying. "Just getting things finished up here. I'm, uh, waiting to walk Lauren to the subway."

It's a pointless pretence of a lie, but Tina lets him have it because Mike's dragging a feather-light touch across her clit and she's biting on her bottom lip to stop herself from cursing. Chest heaving, she swallows hard and clenches her fingers around Mike's wrist to still his touch. "You should, uh, t-take care of yourself," Tina tells him, trying to concentrate, her eyes screwed shut. "G-get home and get some sleep."

As Mike wiggles his fingers, Tina can't help the _fuck _that escapes her lips and blushes with furious embarrassment when Mike just starts laughing, his mouth muffled against her sternum.

"You okay?" Matt's voice is openly worried and Tina curses in her head again- pinching Mike in the side and making him yelp.

"Fine," she manages, even as Mike toys with her, sliding his fingers in a way that makes her legs feel weak. "L-look Matt can I c-call you tomorrow? I'll tell you all about it."

There's a rustle of material on the other end – like a sleeve being pushed up – and then Matt's apologising. "God, yeah, sorry Tee. You must be beat. We'll talk later okay? Have a good night."

Tina's salutation is barely coherent. She throws the phone off the side of the bed and curses Mike openly as he mouth descends on her own, barely managing to get out her insults between snatched breaths. "You – are – such – a – bastard," she heaves as his fingers pick up speed, rubbing her clit in small circles, brushing the underside with such a gentle, delicate touch that her stomach clenches. Biting down on his earlobe, she can hear him groan into her skin and his touch becomes firmer but more erratic.

She's so exhausted that as her orgasm overtakes her that she feels overwhelmed, and as it ebbs her body is spent and limbs heavy. Lying curled against Mike's chest, Tina revels in the feel of his fingers running through her hair, his skin slightly salty as she presses a kiss to his collarbone. "Thank you," she murmurs, her hand splayed on his stomach, fingers flexing ever so slightly.

"You're welcome," he assures her, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head.

She doesn't move her head, instead pressing languid kisses to his chest and neck, but Tina's hand wanders down from his stomach to his hips and lower. Shifting her body, Tina straddles him. He's hard against her thigh and she wraps her hand around him- hot to the touch.

"Are you sure you want to?" he asks, hands on her hips as he looks up at her. "I mean, you're beautiful Tina, but you do look exhausted."

Rolling her eyes, Tina flips her hair behind her shoulder and leans down so her breasts press against his chest and lips find his. "Of course I w-want to," she murmurs into his mouth, teasing. "I know I'm n-not the doctor here but I thought this was a pretty important p-part of making a baby."

Mike's just grabbed her hips and is shifting to a more comfortable position against the pillows when a noise comes from the hallway. Both of them still completely as they hear a scraping sound against the door, low voices, and then after a long, silent pause, a click as the front door opens.

"_Fuck_," Tina whispers, rolling off of Mike and reaching to grab her robe from the end of the bed. "There's someone in the apartment."

She edges towards the door but then Mike's grabbing her by the elbow and pulling her back, the same time as trying to tug a pair of pants up his leg. "Where are you going?" he hisses at her, his eyes wide and cheeks pale. "You're just going to walk out there?"

"No!"

"You looked like you were – honestly, you scare the shit out of me sometimes."

Rolling her eyes, Tina stands a half-step behind him, toying with the sash at her waist. "I was just…" Eyebrows, pointedly raised, render her silent. "So what should we do?"

He's just reaching across the bed for his phone when someone in the hallway trips; a loud crash is followed by a masculine curse, a feminine laugh, and then two voices hushing one another. In that moment Tina's face goes from scared to fuming. "Oh, I am going to _kill _Finn."

Pants still on, Mike flops back on the bed, his hair fisted in his hands and his eyes fixed on the ceiling. "I saved lives today, don't I at least get to have sex with my girlfriend?" he asks no one in particular, and Tina feels irritation and exhaustion swirling within her body. She's not sure whether she's going to laugh or cry as she hears the squeaky sound of mattress springs from the spare room and a low masculine murmuring.

Deflating, Tina ends up curling into a ball on the end of the bed, her legs pulled up to her chest. "I'm sorry," she tells him, leaning her forehead on her knees, her words muffled in the silky material of her robe. "I promise I'm t-taking his key away. I'll change the locks."

Her voice holds the distinct sound of sniffles, so hauling himself upright, Mike wraps his arms around her shoulders and tugs her down to lie with him. Pulling the blankets up over her legs he kisses her forehead, sighing gently. "Some days timing just sucks," he tells her, hugging her tightly. "But we always have tomorrow."

"And I can k-kill Finn?"

"As long as you're not too messy. Blood is a bitch to get out of fabric."

"Deal. Mike?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"I love you too Spider Monkey."

xXx

Tina sits curled up in the kitchen chair, sweater pulled down over her hands as they wind around her steaming mug of coffee. Hair pulled back in a quick, loose braid, she listens to rustling from the spare room and waits for the inevitable sound of the door opening.

Shoes in her hand, Rachel tiptoes out of the room, her blouse half un-tucked and hair ruffled. On seeing Tina sitting at the table, she blushes furiously and goldfishes; there's a moment of silence until they both break into quiet, awkward laughter.

"I'm sorry," Rachel starts, pressing her hand against her flushed cheek. "Tina, really, I know this must be weird for you – it's weird for me. It's just, Finn – he's cute, and Jesse and I had this big fight... but I know he's like a brother to you and I think you and me are friends and -"

"_Rachel," _Tina interrupts with a little laugh. "It's okay. You're a grown w-woman and Finn's a grown man. I d-don't mind what you choose to d-do. But you're not serious about this are you? I m-mean, you and Jesse…"

"I know…" Rachel agrees, nodding her head and leaning down to pull her shoes. "I'm going to meet him for coffee now. Talk."

Standing up, Tina wraps her arms around Rachel's small frame. "I should be k-kicking your ass for scaring the crap out of m-me and Mike last night. I d-don't think he slept properly all night he was so k-keyed up." Pulling back, she reaches down to the table and picks up her mug, taking a long sip of the bitter black liquid.

"Shit, I'm so sorry," Rachel cringes as she fiddles with her phone. "Honestly, it was a couple glasses of wine and it seemed like a good idea. Finn said we could come back here so we didn't have to go back to Blaine's… I should've thought..." Her cell buzzes in her hand and then Rachel smiles shyly and tucks her hair behind her ear. "My cab is here," she says, her tone apologetic. "Look, I'll call you soon okay? I still want to talk about your and Quinn's plans for next month."

Tina unlocks the door for her and presses a kiss to her cheek as she exits. "Good luck with Jesse," she offers warmly, and Rachel's smile is small but grateful.

"Thank you," she mouths as she slips into the hall and down the stairs, and Tina exhales slowly before closing the door behind her.

She picks up her coffee and moves from the table to the couch, curling up against the cushions. She flicks through an old copy of Icon that rests on the kitchen table – she's read it so many times she knows Kurt's editorial off by heart – but she likes the collection of winter coats; bright spots of colour in a grey background. She feels her breathing slowing and her lashes brushing against her cheeks, and is just leaning her head on the cushions when the bedroom door opens again.

Finn steps slowly through the room – obviously not seeing her – and has just approached the coffee pot when she sits up straight. "I should c-call your mother."

It's obviously a shock because he fumbles the mug in his hand and curses out loud. "God Tina," Finn frowns at her. "You trying to give me a heart attack?"

"Like you did last n-night you mean?" she shoots back, pulling herself upright. "Again? You do know how l-late Mike works right? What k-kind of day he had yesterday?"

"Tina…"

"No, I mean you _obviously _thought about that before bringing Rachel into _my_ house in the m-middle of the night without even thinking to t-text me or c-call me and let me know. God, I should call your mother and get her to make Burt give you the 'you matter' speech."

Cringing, Finn pours himself some coffee, staring at the liquid so he doesn't have to look at her. "Not the 'you matter' speech, Tina, come on..." He sheepishly fiddles with his mug, turning it around in his hands. "She didn't want to go back to Kurt and Blaine's… you know, they work together. It would have been weird."

Snorting an irritated laugh, Tina pushes her hair behind her ear and crosses her legs. "Like this w-wasn't weird? God, Finn, I don't m-mind you sleeping with my friends but seriously… you c-couldn't have been a little more subtle?"

Leaning on the counter, he raises an eyebrow at her. "Like you've never had sex in a house when I was there?"

Standing up, Tina stamps her foot on the floor, throwing her magazine so it hits him in the arm. "That is _so _n-not the point. I didn't m-mind last time when your phone was d-dead but you didn't even try and c-call. You t-terrified me and Mike last night! You interrupted some of our really important t-time together and you d-don't even seem sorry!"

Over ten years of living with Tina as a little sister means that instead of being apologetic, Finn can't stifle the smirk that takes over his face. "Oh, so you're just mad because I interrupted you getting laid."

"Fuck, Finn!" she yells, fisting her hair in her hands. "I'm m-mad because you're treating my house like a by-the-hour hotel!"

"Right, so am I the whore or is Rachel?"

"Oookay…" A third voice interrupts them and they both turn their heads abruptly towards the hallway, where Mike is standing, rubbing his eyes, looking rather confused. "I've clearly walked in at a bad moment and I think you both need to calm down."

Stepping towards the living room, he slowly lowers his body onto the couch cushions. Tina – listening to him, knowing he's right – crosses her arms across her chest taking slow deep breaths. "I didn't mean that," she apologises softly, feeling tears creep up the back of her throat and into her eyes. She scrubs at her cheeks with the back of her hand. "Finn, I'm just…"

"Exhausted," Mike answers for her, and she shoots him a look over shoulder- half irritated, half thankfully relieved.

Hands shoved in his pocket, Finn scuffs his toe on the floor. "I should probably go."

Sniffling, Tina can feel a tear creep down her cheek and drip off her nose. "Finn…" she starts. "I didn't m-mean it like that. You know I love you. It's j-just you _really _scared me last night."

"Both of us," Mike pipes up, his legs stretched out and feet propped on the coffee table.

At Mike's words, Finn looks slightly more cowed, and runs his hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up. "Shorty… I didn't mean to mess up your big night." Stepping towards her, he grips her shoulder, pulling her into a hug. She barely comes up to his chest but he wraps his arms around her. "I'm a terrible brother," he murmurs.

"No you're n-not," she mumbles into the soft material of his shirt, sniffing softly. "I just… we were both so tired." She looks over at Mike. "And we're trying…" she pauses, licking her lips. "Trying to find m-more time together. We've been so b-busy with Mike's shifts and me getting ready for the show."

Finn squeezes her one more time and then lets her go. Fiddling with his button, he reaches out for the jacket he left thrown over one of the kitchen chairs. "I'm going to leave you then," he tells her, shrugging the jacket on over his shoulders. Patting his pockets for his wallet and phone, he kisses Tina lightly on the forehead. "I'm heading back to Lima tonight. You should try and come home soon. Burt and Mom miss you."

"I'll try," she nods, wiping her eyes. "I m-miss them too." Then, remembering something from the previous night, she goes for her purse where it sits by the door. Standing up, Tina presses a wallet into his hand. "Can you give this to Kurt please? He left it yesterday."

"Sure," Finn agrees, slipping it into his jacket pocket. Then taking a deep breath, he reaches out and ruffles her hair. "I love you, okay Shorty? And I'm sorry for being an ass."

"Call me when you get home? So I know you're safe?"

"I will," he promises. Then lifting his head, he holds his hand up in a motionless wave. "Good to meet you, Mike. Take care of her, yeah?"

Despite Tina's eye-roll, Mike nods his head, "You know I will."

XxX

When Tina climbs out of the shower later it's to find Mike stretched out on the sofa, TV on low and his eyes closed. Towelling her hair, she smiles at him, at how peaceful he seems. Slipping into the bedroom she pulls on one of Mike's worn t-shirts and a pair of boxers before heading back into the living room. Tiptoeing, she settles onto the couch next to Mike's hip and lies down, pulling his arm around her body.

"Huh?" Mike's eyelashes flutter against her cheek but she shushes him, tugging the throw from the back of the couch over the both of them.

Nuzzling into his chest, Tina kisses his collarbone, left bare under his tank top. "Go back to sleep," she murmurs.

Mike shifts around on the couch, slipping his hand under her t-shirt and against the warm, damp skin of her back. "By this time next year we could have a kid" he murmurs sleepily into her hair, fingers massaging her skin gently.

Laughing softly, she pulls the blanket up to her shoulder. "Not if we k-keep getting interrupted like last night." Pressing another kiss to his chest, she nuzzles her nose against his skin. "Now go back to sleep."

Letting his eyes close, Mike relaxes back into the cushions. "Mmm… when I wake up I'm gonna rock your world, okay?"

"Can't wait."


	21. Chapter 21

Hello all! Well here we are again with another chapter of Dr Mike. I'm so sorry there has been such a gap between the last chapter and this one, but please be assured I haven't given up on this story! I have been missing Tike like hell but I promise they are continuing to live and have adventures in NY with all their friends. There has just been a lot going on in my life and my job (and in the life and job of my darling editor!) so we have been a bit lax in getting this to you. But here it is! And I hope you all enjoy it muchly and it doesn't disappoint.

Reviews and replies ALWAYS welcome and SO MUCH appreciated.

XXXXXXXX

"Chan, here, I found these ones for you. Will they b-be okay?"

Chantel pops out from under the table, picking up the colouring pencils that have scattered there as she set them out for use in the lesson. Brushing her bangs back from in front of her eyes, she looks at the stack of bright and varied images on the postcards that Tina has placed in front of her. "Ooh!" she squeaks, "These are awesome, thanks T-C-C! My social studies teacher'll love them!" Scooping up the postcards she scans through the pictures, exclaiming over images from all over Europe, Asia, South America.

Sitting next to her, Mel flicks her long blonde hair over her shoulder and cocks her head to the side. "Hey Tina, where are your parents this month? We haven't tracked them on the map in ages."

At the back of the classroom, surrounded by faded letters and photos, a large world map is stuck up, scattered with different coloured pins. Walking over to it, Keisha's lime green polished fingers smooth across the paper. "They were in South America last, right Tee?" Leaning in, she squints at the poster. "Peru?"

"Mmm…" Tina murmurs her agreement as she sets out blank sheets of paper on the prop-up easels. "Yeah, and heading to Brazil n-next," she tells them. "Here, use one of the green p-pins," she points to the pot of thumbtacks on the shelf above the map. "Oh, and see if you can stick a b-blue one in New Hampshire – Jia just started college in D-dartmouth."

Happy to follow directions, Keisha stretches up on her tiptoes to grab the pins, easily finding Peru and sticking a pin in the middle of the country. It's one of many green pins scattered across the map, following the travels and exploits of Tina's parents. Less frequent but even more important, blue pins show the destinations of girls who had previously been in the program: from Jia now in Dartmouth, Rianne working at one of the delicatessens up town, Bridget at the University of Washington, to Liv travelling in Spain. It gives Tina a warm feeling in the pit of her stomach every time she sees them.

Sondra picks up one of the pencils and starts sketching on one of the large pieces of paper, wrinkling her nose where a new silver stud pierces the skin. Next to her, Aphasia is texting under the table, only barely attempting to hide her phone. "Hey Tee, where's Nance? She doesn't get visitation, huh? So is she sick?"

It's a barrage of questions and makes Tina laugh as she herds the rest of the girls to the table and materials. "I don't know, I haven't heard from her."

"She didn't come in on the bus," Chantel shrugs as she stows the postcards in her messenger bag.

Winding her hair up in a knot on the top of her head, Mel secures it with a coloured pencil. "She doesn't always," Mel interjects quietly. "Not if she's having a bad day."

The rest of the girls are silent for a beat, settling themselves in chairs and picking up pencils, not looking at each other but staring at the papers in front of them. Tina picks up her phone and is about to text Nancy's foster mother when the door opens.

A mousy head of hair peeks in- shy smile on her face. One hand clutches at a black bag with a little lattice window in the front, and the other is laced with the fingers of a taller woman with square jaw and striking features, chocolate curls tucked behind her ears. "Sorry we're late!" Shelby says, leading her foster daughter into the room, encouraging her with a light touch between her shoulder blades.

Standing up, Tina allows the older woman to wrap her in a hug before reaching out and squeezing Nancy's shoulder. "We were hoping you'd b-be here," she addresses the teen, and Nancy peeks out from under her loose hair long enough to flash a brief smile in return.

"Nancy brought something special to share with the girls," Shelby reveals with a little wink in the group's direction. At the seeming permission, Nancy places her black bag on the table, opening the zip to reveal a tiny grey and black kitten that darts out of the carrier and into her arms immediately. The girls coo with delight and crowd around the small purring creature.

Tina can't help the broad smile that takes over her face; Nancy looks more relaxed and happy than Tina's seen her in all the time she's known her. "Shelby," she whispers with delight.

"I know," Shelby nods back, her hands in her coat pockets and a quirk at the edge of her lips. "I took her to the zoo – your friend Brittany was _so _wonderful showing her around, letting her pet some of the animals. She even got to feed one of the otters. And Nance was so animated and she was laughing… yesterday we went to the pet shop. She's been like this ever since."

Looking over at the girls, they find them sat in a cramped circle on the floor, the kitten chasing bits of scrunched up paper between their legs and occasionally stopping to try and chew on the laces of Keisha's bright sneakers. He bounds back to Nancy every couple minutes or so, as though checking in before leaping off again.

"Does he have a name?" Mel asks, wiggling her fingers above him as he lies on his back and waggles his claws in the air. She's expecting Shelby to answer, so it's a shock to everyone when a small voice answers back - one most have never heard.

"Chase."

Hearing Nancy's voice is like having something slam into her chest, and Tina feels her breath steal momentarily. Looking over at Shelby, she can tell the woman is having the same feeling, and the girls on the floor look equally stunned.

Mel is the first to react. Her smile is so broad it looks painful, but she loops her arm around Nancy's shoulder, giving her a squeeze. "Great name Nance. It suits him." Both laugh as the little kitten goes skittering across the floor again after a reflection of light coming from Sondra's watch.

The other girls share looks but try not to make a big deal of it, whereas Tina has to reach across and squeeze Shelby's hand, leading her back towards the door. "She used to scream at night, when we first had her," the older woman whispers, leaning heavily against the wall. "And I was pleased when that stopped but… she's been silent for so long. I almost missed hearing that just to hear _her._"

"It t-takes time," Tina whispers back, glad the girls are all occupied. "You've b-been wonderful for her."

The two women are interrupted by the sound of all the girls giggling. Turning towards them they find them all squashed together in the middle of the floor, kitten held in Nancy's arms and Aphasia holding her phone out as far as she can, trying to fit them all in the picture without luck. "Hey Tee!" she calls out, "Can you take this for us?"

Tina's about to reach out for the phone when Shelby swoops in first, "I'll take it," she insists. "You go and get in the picture."

The girls get excited, calling her name in overlapping jubilation, grabbing for her wrists and her sweater until she's in the middle of them all, Keisha leaning into her and Chantel with her arms wrapped around her neck from behind. Sondra and Aphasia make peace signs on one side and Mel and Nancy sit in front, Mel's arm around the smaller girl's shoulders and the kitten held between them. "Smile everyone!" Shelby prompts, and all the girls– women– grin together.

xXx

Happiness and excitement linger with Tina all day. She buys herself a caramel latte on the way home, enjoying the hot sugary taste, and then stops in at the hospital so she can grab Mike in the staff lounge and share her caramel lips with him during his ten minute break. He laughs at her enthusiasm- her giddiness- and promises he will try and be home on time so they can continue their little celebration. Her arms around his neck, Tina stands on tiptoes and kisses just below his ear, making him shiver.

"I can't p-promise I'll wait for you before I start," she winks, causing him to groan and wrap his arms around her waist, tugging her tightly against him.

"Then I'm not letting you go," he murmurs into her hair, his hands running up and down the rough wool of her coat. "You'll have to stay until I finish my shift."

"Mmm…" she kisses his lips gently before pulling away. "I d-don't think Dr. Bieste would be t-too happy with that," she reminds him. "I'm n-not sure you'd be very productive if I was here."

Finally relenting, they part with another deep kiss that makes warmth pool in the pit of her stomach. In the blocks between the hospital and their apartment, she kicks up the leaves that have swirled into Autumnal piles and wishes she had worn leggings over her pantyhose, the weather being particularly crisp.

The apartment is chilled when she gets in and she turns the heating on full before kicking off her boots and tugging off her itchy pantyhose. Across the room she can see the voicemail lit up with three different messages, and settles down on the couch, hitting the button with her palm. The first voice that blares out is Matt, sounding sleepy and distracted. "Yo Chang – White Chocolate says he's swapped shifts so pick up's going to be Thursday instead, okay? I think he did it so he can get his lovin' on, but don't tell San I said so – she'll give him serious shit."

Tina laughs at that, and then sticks her tongue out when the next voice is David Karofsky from one of the design agencies she works with. She vaguely notes the details of the job, intending to listen to it again later and note it down in her diary. Stretching out her legs, she listens to the third message, propping her heels on the coffee table.

"Is this working? Can you hear me? Damn, you know I hate talking on these damn things. Look kids, I guess you're both out working. Oh – and it's Dad. Burt. I just wanted to let you know Carole's had this – okay _we've _had this – plan. February's gonna be the big 6-0 for me and she seems to think I need some kind of big party. So this is me giving you warning okay? And we've got some flier miles if you need them. I'll try back later in the week so we can hammer this thing out properly. Hope you're taking care of yourselves – Tina, make sure you're wrapping up. I've been checking the weather up there and I know you'll be out without even wearing a hat or gloves or anything. And no one needs you getting sick."

Tina can't stop from rolling her eyes, but pulls the blanket off the couch and tucks it around her legs. As Burt signs off – to sounds of Carole's voice tinny on the machine – Tina finds herself smiling. She hugs a cushion to her chest and picks up the phone, dialling a number she knows by memory.

"Hey you," Kurt answers, sounding cheery and busy, the sound of his fingers clattering across the keyboard in the background. "I was just going to text you."

"Oh yeah?" she responds curiously, picking up her diary from her bag and checking through the months, counting carefully and marking a day in the next week with a circled date and a red star.

"Yeah, I haven't spoken to you since Dancing with the Stars was on. Can you believe- "

"Gah! No spoilers!" she cries, hand flying up to cover her free ear, diary tossed aside. "Mike and I Tivo-ed and haven't got around to watching it yet."

Laughing in reply, Kurt's fingers stop their typing. "So what's happening?"

Tugging the elastic out of the end of one of her braids, Tina fluffs up her hair so it lays crinkled and kinked behind her shoulder. "Your dad keeps c-calling the apartment forgetting you d-don't live here anymore."

There's a pause on the other end of the phone, and then Kurt starts laughing. "You really believe that?" he asks, sounding incredulous. "He calls you on Saturdays, right?"

Nodding her head – even though he can't see her – Tina's brow wrinkles in a frown as she unbinds her other braid. "Yeah. Every week."

"Tina, he calls me Friday nights. After him and Carole have dinner. He always has. The Saturday calls were always yours." There's a long pause and then Kurt's clearly smiling – Tina can hear it in his voice. "You think he doesn't want to check up on you? He's forever asking after you. I sent him the reviews from your show."

"You d-didn't!"

"Of course I did! He was so proud of you. Him and Carole both were."

Lying back on the sofa, Tina wiggles her socked feet in the air and squeezes her eyes shut, ignoring the jumping-bean feeling in her stomach. "I feel like I haven't seen them in forever," she admits. "Are you and Blaine going to go home for the p-party?"

"Already planning my outfit," Kurt scoffs in reply. "And Blaine's been browsing bow-ties online."

"So I should call and say we're c-coming?"

"I already did, but yeah, you definitely should. Do you think Mike'll be able to come as well?"

Picking up her cell, Tina smiles at the message that Mike's just sent her – dirty and teasing and sweet. "You think Burt'll be okay if he d-does?"

"Are you kidding? Dad's been busting my butt about when he's going to get to meet him. Always asking me if he's treating you right."

"G-god, of _course _he does. So? What do you tell him?"

Kurt's laughter on the other end is wry. "What do you think I tell him? That you guys have been together almost a year and Mike is ridiculously, sickeningly good to you."

Burying her face in the cushion, Tina feels a blush taking over her skin both at the fact that Kurt's tone is obviously teasing, and at the reminder of her relationship's longevity. "I forgot it'd b-been that long."

On the other end of the phone she can hear a ringing that she recognises as Kurt's work phone. "Damn – I've gotta go. I'll call you later okay?"

"Absolutely. T-talk to you later."

xXx

Tina's curled up on the couch, book in hand and lights on low when the front door opens. Her legs are still under the warm quilt that Kurt had sewn for her birthday when they had first moved to the city, and hair piled up in a knot on top of her head. Setting her book down, she waits for Mike to shrug his jacket off before holding her arms out for him. He comes to her willingly and easily, kicking his sneakers off and sliding under the blanket that she holds up for him.

"Hi," she greets, running her fingers through his hair as he rests his head on her collarbone.

He murmurs happily in response, cold cheek pressed against her warm skin, and as his fingertips sneak up under her t-shirt she curses but doesn't bat him away. "You're nice and warm," he tells her, squeezing her against him tightly, peppering kisses down her neck.

"And you're c-cold," she responds, reaching down to grasp at the bottom of his t-shirt, pulling it up and over his head, then covering him with the quilt as he grouses. She pulls her own tank top off and tosses it aside before working on the button of his jeans.

"So you didn't get started without me?" he teases, sliding the zipper of her skirt down the small of her back and over the curve of her backside. As she wriggles out of the material, kicking it off her feet somewhere under the blanket, she giggles and shakes her head.

"Unless r-reading some erotic trashy n-novel counts," she teases with a wink, bringing her leg up to wrap around Mike's waist and undulating her hips, cupping his face in her hands and kissing him warmly.

Mike smiles against her mouth. "With your imagination, I think it probably does."

Bare breasts pressed against his toned chest, Tina can feel Mike's laughter against her ribs. "N-not my fault the p-pirate captain is so graphic," she jokes. "His d-dirty mouth works for me."

"Mmm, your dirty mouth works for _me,"_ Mike replies, biting gently on her lower lip, causing her mouth to look crimson and pouting as he pushes her underwear down her legs. It gets hooked over one of her ankles but she doesn't care because the minute they're down he's sliding a hand between her legs and stroking in a tender way that makes her stomach flip-flop and goose bumps break over her skin.

Reaching between them, Tina's hand sneaks under the cotton of his boxers and gives his half-hard cock a gentle squeeze. "I can tell," she smiles, edging the material down his hips and beginning to stroke her hand up and down. Licking her lips, she kisses him slow and hard, her free hand cupping the back of his neck as his hands goes to her hips. When they pull apart they're breathless.

"You're adorable," he tells her, stroking his thumb along her cheekbone, his palm cupping her chin.

It makes her giggle; hands coming up to rest on his shoulders. "How did we get from 'I love your dirty mouth' to 'you're adorable'?" she asks curiously as he settles between her hips, his free hand tickling her side in a way that makes her writhe and squirm.

"We just did," he shrugs with a warm smile, stilling his hand mostly but his thumb brushing over her ribs and the underside of her breast. He watches as she turns her face and the dim lamplight makes her skin glow. It looks warm and peachy and he leans down to kiss every inch, almost surprised when it isn't fiery against his lips. As he lets his hand travel down her side, cupping her hip and then slipping in between her legs, her knees fall wider apart and she tilts her body up to his touch. Her skin is warm and her thighs damp and she murmurs loving encouragement against his mouth.

He enters her not with a thrust but with a slow easing, mostly in and then back again enough that she grips his shoulders and looks at him wide-eyed and hopeful. When their hips are together again she wraps her legs around him, and for a beat they are still and completely wound together; arms and legs and mouths like a knotted piece of string. Tina can tell he's tired because he keeps the rhythm slow and even and distractedly scatters kisses across her eyelids, nose and cheeks.

Tina clutches one hand in her hair – falling loose of its haphazard topknot – and the other rests under her breasts, feeling the skittering of her tremulous heartbeat. Mike's fingers wrap around her wrist, pulling her hand away, and then lace their fingers together against the cushions.

"Are you okay?" he asks, breathing heavily, his forehead leant against hers and his breath hot against her cheek. The fingers that aren't tangled with hers sweep lightly across one nipple making it pucker and pink. She inhales sharply, and he can feel her muscles clench and tighten. Fingers moving again – this time more firmly – he couples it with a gentle tug of her lower lips between his teeth. "Tina," he murmurs, nose nudging her cheek and nuzzling her ear. "Tell me what you want."

Shifting just a fraction, she wraps her leg higher around his hips and it's enough to make her shudder in his hold. "Again," she requests, and whether she's talking about the pinch of his fingers or the tilt of his hips, he isn't sure, but he follows through with both and it makes her groan his name. He kisses beneath her ear, under her jaw, down her neck and suckles on her pulse point until he can feel Tina's heartbeat stagger and breath catch. Fingers grasp his hard enough to almost hurt but he just pulls her against his chest as her body shivers and shakes, the gripping sensation enough to cause a fiery feeling in his own stomach. He finishes in a couple more strokes, the sensations of her trembling muscles all around him enough to make his head spin, and when he pulls out of her body he isn't sure whether the pathetic whimpering noise comes from Tina's lips or his own.

They lay in silence for a few minutes, just listening to the sound of the rain outside, the traffic, and each other's breathing. Shifting around, they end up so Tina is tucked under Mike's arm, one leg thrown over his thighs and his arms around her waist. "Hi," she greets with a giggle as they get comfortable, pressing bodies together on the too-small couch.

"Hi," he smiles back, fingers teasing through her mussed hair.

"Want to order a pizza and catch up on Dancing with the Stars?"

His face lights up, and leaning down, he cups both her cheeks in his hands, kissing her soundly. "I love you so much."

xXx

The coffee pot clicks, the toaster pops, and Tina hops across the kitchen trying to pull her shoe on while holding the phone between her shoulder and her chin. Her blouse is still only half buttoned and the hot bread burns her fingers as she tries to pull it out on to the counter.

The phone rings four times.

"Hummel Tires and Lube?"

"Hey old man," she laughs lightly, surprised that it's him answering the phone and not one of his employees. "I thought you were supposed to be t-taking it easy? Aren't you n-nearly a p-pensioner or something?"

"Not too old to tan your hide," he grouses, but she can tell he's smiling on the other end. His voice is lilting with amusement. "So you are alive then, huh?"

"_Burt_," she chastises, rolling her eyes as Mike enters the kitchen, his hair still mussed but holding out the earring she had been unable to find. She mouths a thank you as he carefully approaches, cupping her chin in one hand and sliding the earring through the hole in her lobe. "You're exaggerating. I sent you that l-link about the Buckeyes last w-week."

"That was an email." She can hear the low grunts of the hydraulics in the shop and the faint clanging of tools on metal. "When was the last time you called, huh? It's been nearly a month. Carole was thinking about calling the police."

"She was n-not."

Stepping around her, Mike pulls two travel mugs out of the cupboard above her head and fills them with coffee, adding sweetener to hers and milk to his. Pushing the lids on, he's hip-to-hip with her and can't stop himself from leaning over and letting his lips caress the skin of her neck. It's momentarily distracting, and she swats him away as she tries to listen to her second father. Mike sticks his tongue out as he disappears back down the hallway.

"I'm not asking for a play-by-play, I'm just saying, a call every week wouldn't go amiss."

Reaching into the refrigerator, she pulls out the margarine and begins spreading it on her toast, phone clamped under her chin. "I'm c-calling now, aren't I?"

He sighs with a laugh and she can hear him entering the small office and the sound of trickling liquid – she knows coffee, she hopes decaf – into a mug. "You are. So what's new kiddo?"

Taking a bite of one of the pieces of toast, she waves the other in Mike's direction as he re-enters the room, his hair now tamed and slightly damp. "You know, the usual," she answers wryly, as Mike frowns as her crookedly buttoned blouse, unbuttoning it slowly and with a quirked, raised eyebrow before refastening it one by one. "Class with the g-girls, getting ready for Christmas at the centre. I've g-got some other sales to f-finalise from the show."

"And how's that man of yours?" Burt asks with a probing tone, and Tina watches as the man in question drinks orange juice out of the carton from the refrigerator, only blushing and mouthing an apology when he feels her eyes on him.

"He's g-good," she answers simply. "Presenting a paper at a c-conference in a couple w-weeks in Chicago."

She's just finished her toast when he feels a cool glass being pressed into her palm. Looking down, she wrinkles her nose at the sight of plain milk. Lifting her eyes, she frowns at Mike but he just mimes drinking it, and then, in the reply to the vigorous shaking of her head, points to her stomach and gives her a thumbs up. Rolling her eyes, she takes a tiny sip with an unhappy face.

Burt's voice has a murmured undertone of incredulity, like he's sure there's something she isn't telling him. "And he's treating you right? I mean, I know Finn and Kurt say he is but don't think I wouldn't fly over there and teach his punk ass a thing or two if he so much as looks at you the wrong way."

Hand pressed against her chest, Tina almost chokes on her glass of milk as she laughs. Mike actually has to take it out of her hand and thump her on the back a few times, and tears leak from the corners of her eyes. "G-god Burt," she coughs, gasping for air. "D-don't do that to me."

"I'm serious."

"Would you feel b-better if I said he treats me like a queen?"

Mike grins at that, bowing as he slips his pager into his pocket, and his eyes still on her and the telephone. There's a pause at the other end. "It would make me feel a little better."

"He d-does. I promise. Honestly Burt. And you'll see in February for yourself."

"Hey, you're coming home!" Burt's voice is filled with delight and Tina can't stop the grin that spreads across her face.

Picking up her folder from the table she slides it into her oversized purse, watching as Mike ties the laces of his sneakers. "Mike has to ch-check with the ER Chief but he's owed a b-bunch of vacation time anyways. So yeah. I w-wouldn't want to m-miss your birthday."

"Speaking of missing, aren't you gonna be late for work? It's Tuesday."

Looking at the clock on the oven, she curses lightly and deftly. "Yes. I should g-go. I'm sorry we d-didn't get to talk longer."

"Well it was good to talk to you kiddo. Glad to know you're alive and not living off cornflakes and Ambian."

"I think Mike would kill me if I tried."

"Good man. Now go and earn a living would you? I'll talk to you soon."

"Love you Burt," she tells him with a soft laugh as Mike holds out her coat for her. She slides her arms in the sleeves and mouths a thank you; leaning down, Mike presses a kiss against her lips before she can even finish forming the words, and she's very glad that Burt's hung up the other end. Her hands go up and clutch at the front of Mike's jacket for balance at the feel of his coffee-tinged mouth.

When he pulls away, her breath is slightly ragged and she looks up at him, confused. "What was that for?" she asks with a smile on her face as he reaches up and tucks a loose curl behind her ear.

Shrugging one shoulder in a lop-sided fashion, he smiles at her from under his dark eyelashes. "Because I won't get to see you until later, and I wanted to say a proper good morning. And I love you."

"I love you too." She smiles up at him. "And I'll b-be thinking about that kiss all day now."

Grinning, he feathers a last butterfly kiss to the tip of her nose. "Then my work here is done."


	22. Chapter 22

Here we are people, chapter 22! Prepare for some bro-time, all the friendships, and of course, beautiful Tike-y fluff.

My love and thanks as always go to my darling Maple Leaf. None of this would make sense or be any good without her. Oh, and the football information comes entirely from her! Because all I know about football is I like the pants and I like it when Mike runs.

Enjoy my lovelies! Big hugs and kisses! xx

xXxXxXxX

"Face it my friend, they're not going to make the playoffs. The 49ers sucked last week, they're gonna suck this week and they're probably going to suck next week." Sam's grin is way too wide and his blond bangs fall in front of his eyes as he takes a pull of his beer, his socked feet propped up on the coffee table as he taunts Mike.

"You're only saying that because your precious Titans are up by ten," Mike counters, tossing him a bag of rippled chips before popping the top off his own beer. "You weren't so cocky last quarter."

Matt – eyes half closed and his head tipped back to rest on the back of the couch, looking barely conscious – shakes his head. "No, he's right. 49ers really did suck."

Kicking Matt in the leg as he walks past, Mike drops down into the armchair. "_You're _only saying that because you're afraid Houston is going to win."

Grumbling, Matt throws his arm across his face, as though to shield his eyes from the light, or his brain from the thought. "I hate Houston."

Mike's about to respond and defend his team when he hears a click in the lock and he hasn't even managed to turn his head in that direction before Matt lets out a long, low wolf whistle. "What is this, some kind of kinky secretary fantasy we didn't know about?" he teases, eyes scanning Tina up and down and taking in her unusual attire, from the crisp white blouse dipping low in the front, the scarlet scarf knotted at her neck to the pencil skirt and skyscraper high heels.

Hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, she rolls her eyes at him. "Nice to see you t-too, Matt."

"Hot date?"

Placing her purse down on the kitchen table, she shrugs off her jacket and steps out of her shoes, sighing lightly with relief as her stocking-clad feet hit the cool smooth floor. "Client m-meeting," she corrects. "With a particularly upmarket c-company."

Mike – having bounded from his chair – comes to her side and smiles at her sheepishly. "Hi," he greets, watching as she pulls the elastic from her hair, curls spilling down over her shoulders.

"Hi," she greets back.

Looking over his shoulder at where Sam has started cursing at the tv ("Open your eyes Ref, how can you call that a hold?!") Mike wrinkles his nose and turns back to her with a slightly anxious rolling of his shoulders. "I hope you don't mind them being over," he says softly, reaching out to finger the scarlet material at her neck, letting his touch linger against her skin. "I probably should've called…"

Tina snorts a little laugh as she raises an eyebrow. "You live here too Mike, and I'm n-not your _Mom_. You d-don't have to ask before you have your friends over."

He studies her face carefully, as though to check for sincerity, but when he finds no trace of a hidden message he smiles, leaning down and kissing her lips. "You wanna join us? Matt's hate watching is pretty entertaining."

Over his shoulder, Matt throws pretzels at the screen as Sam groans, downing the rest of his beer. It makes Tina laugh, but she shakes her head. "No, that's okay. You have fun with the b-boys. I'm going to go read I think." Reaching into the fridge she grabs her own beer. "How much longer is the game?"

Looking over his shoulder at the tv, Mike considers the clock. "It's nearly half time. So maybe an hour and a half?"

Nodding her head, Tina reaches up to tug at the scarf around her neck, and the material slides across her skin, unveiling the faint trace of the hickey he left there earlier in the week. "Okay, well I'm going to t-take a shower. So if they g-go into overtime just remember that I am next door and p-probably naked."

It makes Mike laugh out loud as she kisses his cheek and heads down the hallway and into the bathroom, beer bottle dangling between her fingers and an extra little sashay at her hips. Raking his hands through his hair, he drops down in the armchair and curses under his breath as Matt and Sam turn their eyes to him. "Everything alright dude?" Sam asks, pushing his bangs back from his eyes as he reaches for one of the bags of chips on the table. His concern is laced with knowing and Mike wonders who _exactly _is sending the messages that keep lighting up his phone.

"It's good," he replies with a smile, hearing the water begin in the bathroom and Tina's gentle voice humming over the spray. Then turning back to the screen he raises a hand, "Oh come on, that was _so _offside!"

xXx

"So what are they doing now?"

"Just yelling at the tv I think. Does Blaine d-do this?"

"Sometimes. But generally I just leave him chatting over Skype with my Dad when the Buckeyes play – that way they can commiserate in real time. I put my Sondheim/Mackintosh/Lloyd-Webber play list on in the office. So I honestly don't notice that much."

Tina laughs at that, stretching out to apply the emerald polish carefully to her toes, wiggling them to watch the lamp light pick out the sparkles. "Mike's a sporty guy, I mean, I knew that when we g-got together. But you know I n-never really got into the football thing." Replacing the brush, she stretches, feeling her left shoulder pop.

On the laptop Kurt pushes his reading glasses up his nose and studies her face. "You look tired."

"That's because I _am _t-tired."

"Do football jerseys still give you nightmares?"

Frowning at the screen, Tina pulls her silky robe around her shoulders. "_Kurt," _she mumbles in a warning tone. "Don't, okay?"

"I'm just asking," he says, his hands held up in a placatory gesture. "I know you and I bet you never even told him they bother you."

"Well that's because they d-don't anymore," she says, blowing on her nails, knees pulled up to her chest. "Mike wears his 49ers jersey around the house, his friends wear them when they go and play p-pickup. Including Blaine, b-by the way."

Kurt can't stop the smile spreading across his face at her words. He knows it's misdirection but allows it anyway. "He had such a great time you know. Did you say thank you to Mike for me? For inviting him?"

Running her fingers through her still-damp hair, Tina grins back. "No, but I will. And I know Mike had a great t-time too – it was n-nice for them to have equal teams. Apparently Blaine's pretty quick?"

"Not quick enough to avoid getting – what's the word? – sacked? He's still got the bruises on his knees."

Wincing in sympathy, Tina finds herself laughing. "Yeah, they t-take it pretty seriously."

There's a loud roaring from the living room and both Kurt and Tina are silent from a beat before dissolving into giggles. "I should g-get them to invite Blaine to come over and watch next time," she suggests. "We'll leave them here and I can c-come and hang out with you."

"Sounds brilliant," he grins. "Rogers and Hammerstein movie marathon?"

"As long as w-we can start with Cinderella."

"The Whitney version."

"Naturally. You know I have a n-never ending love for Paolo Montalban."

"Which I completely understand."

They both smile and Tina feels the little tug in her heart that reminds her that she really doesn't see enough of him anymore. "I miss you," she tells him earnestly, reaching up and twisting half her hair almost absentmindedly into a braid over her shoulder.

On the other end of the screen a smile quirks Kurt's lips and he pulls his glasses off, tossing them aside onto the desktop. "Regretting the choice to live with a boy?"

Working on the other side of her hair, Tina laughs. "Usually? N-not at all. Right now? A little."

As she says the words, Tina's overtaken by a large yawn that seems to come from her toes. Clapping a hand over her mouth, she laughs lightly and murmurs an apology. "You should go to bed," Kurt chides from his apartment. "You're tired."

"I w-want to wait up for him," she replies with a little half-hearted shrug. "When he's n-not working nights I like to see him before I g-go to sleep."

It must be the way she toys with the sash of her robe or the way her fingers reach up to skim the healing hickey on her neck, but Kurt's look is knowing and amused. "You are completely hopeless, you know that? I can't believe you're this tired and you still want to wait up so you have a chance to do horrible things that I don't want to think about with him."

Blushing furiously, Tina sticks her tongue out. "I will neither c-confirm or deny."

"God, you're like the obnoxious little sister I never wanted," Kurt teases, then on his side of the screen the front door opens and Tina can hear Blaine's voice calling out his hellos.

"I should g-go," Tina smiles gently, hearing Blaine's footsteps go closer and Kurt turn his head away from the screen. "Still on for lunch tomorrow?"

"Of course," Kurt says with a definite nod and a kiss blown at the screen. "Usual time, usual place."

"Love you."

"Love you too, Single Lady."

Tina hangs up the call with a click of the button, and has just stretched out on the comforter, considering whether she has the where-with-all to try reading a chapter of her book when the bedroom door opens with a squeak.

"You're not naked," Mike teases, tugging off his sweatshirt and tossing it towards the hamper, raising his arms in victory when it lands neatly inside. "Though I like these." Crawling up the bed, he fingers the light satiny material of her matching pale pink tank top and shorts. "Very nice."

Letting him pull the robe from off her shoulders and go and hang it up on the back of the door, Tina asks, "Matt and Sam w-went home?"

She doesn't understand why, but the question makes him laugh. "They both said they were," he explains. "But the last half hour of the game they were both furiously texting, so I'm pretty sure they had some other plans in mind."

"Lucky Mercedes and… Lauren?" Tina guesses with a grin as she watches Mike pull his sweats off and fold them back into the drawers.

"Not Lauren," he corrects with a shake of his head. "She's working. My guess is either Deena from his gym or the red headed girl from Plato's."

Rolling her eyes, Tina pulls the blankets back so Mike can slide under them. "As long as he's safe. And honest."

Pulling her against his chest, Mike slides his hand under the cool material of her pyjamas, tracing the feel of her ribs and the curve of her side. "He always is."

"I j-just wish he could find someone."

Pressing a kiss to her shoulder blade, Mike shrugs his shoulders. "I guess not everyone is as lucky as we are."

Turning around, she looks at him, and responds with a kiss to his lips. "No, I guess not."

"Thank you for tonight."

"You d-don't have to thank me, Mike. They're your friends."

Reaching up, he tucks her hair behind her ear. "I know I don't have to thank you. I just wanted to." Rubbing their noses together, he smiles softly. "You're too good to me."

Laughing, Tina pulls his arms tighter around her body. "Well if you w-want to then in the m-morning you can p-pay me back," she suggests, resting her head on his chest.

Squeezing her in a hug, he rests his head on top of hers. "Done."

xXx

Tina's sitting at the kitchen table with her sketchpad in front of her and colouring pencils spread across the papers. A half-drunk, mostly forgotten tepid mug of coffee sits within the debris, propping up an album of old photographs that Tina stares at, before making gentle carbon strokes across the page.

The fingers of her free hand tangle in her hair; she tugs the mussed strands as she thinks and hums under her breath. Her socked feet tap out a rhythm on the floor and she's just searching in the scattered art materials for a soft blue pencil when a buzzing starts from somewhere across the room. Startled, she manages to knock the book off the table, just grabbing the coffee cup before it spills across the stack of papers.

The stupid buzzing stops and then starts again but Tina can't figure out where it's coming from. Cursing, she tries to hone in on it, tossing the cushions off the couch and crawling on her stomach to search underneath. Eventually she finds her phone in the pocket of one of Mike's hoodies (that she had been wearing over her pyjamas) tossed over the back of the sofa.

Swiping her fingers across the screen, she grins at the sight of Mike's name attached to the message. Away at a conference in Chicago, he'd kissed her on the forehead three mornings previous, some time before the sun had fully come up, and she hasn't seen him since. Letting herself settle onto the soft cushions, she pulls his hoody around her shoulders, breathing in the lingering scent of his body wash.

_Finally, lunch break, _she reads in his message, and can imagine the fatigue in his voice. _How is your day going? _

Pulling her knees up to her chin, she taps on the screen. _Working on some stuff for Burt's birthday, _she tells him. _Kurt managed to find some old pictures of him as a baby and I'm doing some sketches for his gift. Dinner with Q&P later. When are you home tomorrow? I miss you xx_

She knows she sounds a little pathetic, but she's not used to him being away for so long without at least an hour together here or there. Wiggling her toes – and wondering whether she should just give in and put the heating on to protect her against the autumn chill – she gets a little thrill when her phone buzzes again in her hand. _Our flight is at 7 so I'll be home by lunchtime, _he promises. _We can celebrate._

Curiously, she lies on her back, feet propped up on the back of the couch. _What are we celebrating? _

There's a long pause before his next message, and for a moment she wonders if she's said something wrong, but then Mike sends her two texts at once – one a picture of the panini and salad he's clearly just ordered for lunch, and the other beginning with a smiley face.

_One year ago today I was in the ER wrapping the wrist of the most beautiful knee sock wearing girl I'd ever seen. What were you doing? ;) _

Laughing to herself, Tina feels a blush taking over her cheeks, and is amazed both that it's been a year since they met, and that he remembers. A little niggling in the bottom of her stomach makes her guilty that she hadn't. Still, she types out her message with confidence.

_Listening to Kurt and Blaine make fun of me in the back of a cab telling me I should have given my number to the sexiest doctor alive who had just stitched up my forehead, _she teases. _And then dreaming about him that night. _

The reply is almost instant. _Reeeeally? ;) You never told me that. _

Giggling as she thinks back to that very first dream in which he appeared – blue scrub wearing, biceps, warm lips and a thorough examination by the man known only as 'Doctor Chang' – warmth pools in her stomach and inches up her cheeks. _A girl has to have her secrets, _she tells him. _ But I promise reality outstripped the dream by a long way. _

_Flatterer. _

_Of course, I'm still hoping you'll bring me a present. _

_Stolen toiletries from the hotel? _he offers, making her laugh as she wanders over to fill the coffee pot, feeling the need for a caffeine jolt lest she fall asleep and lose most of her afternoon working time. _They bolt the lamps down. _

Taking her old mug and dumping out the cold coffee, she rinses it with hot water while she waits for her fresh pot to percolate. _How about just bring yourself home and we can work something out? I'll find the green and blue plaid underwear you like so much and you can unwrap me and receive what I have to give. _

Ten minutes pass before she realises she hasn't had a reply from him, and looking at the clock, she assumes he's been called back into the afternoon's meetings. Drinking her coffee, she heads back to her drawing, and is in the middle of choosing the right shades of green for the fresh Ohio grass in the picture when she's once again startled by the sound of her phone. This time however, it's right next to her hand and Bowie's 'Just Dance' hums its tinny melody from the tiny speakers. Picking up the call, she holds the phone to her ear. "Hi."

"Hi? Is that all you have to say to me? I just had to sit, surrounded by some of the country's most prominent physicians, and try and finish my lunch while all I could think about was you in those panties. I'm dying."

He's plaintive but teasing and she can tell he's not really upset with her. The little roughness in his voice, however, means his imagination is definitely running at full tilt. "They're the ones with the l-little ribbons at the side, do you remember?" she taunts. "Last t-time you undid them with your teeth."

She hears him groan, and then feeling sympathetic she laughs, knowing it will break the spell, at least for a moment. "Are you really okay?" she asks, trying to help him pull his mind back onto the topic at hand. "What time does your m-meeting start back?"

"Ten minutes," he admits, and she can tell he's pretty tired of it all (and probably pretty tired in general, not sleeping well in a strange hotel in a strange city). His voice is gravely. Mike pauses and then, "Can you believe it's been a year?"

In truth, she knows they're both a little amazed that the year has gone by so quickly, and that it has been that – _only _a year. Sometimes she finds it strange to think of 'before' Mike; so much has changed and yet she feels like none of it's been too fast or too much. "First of m-many," she replies softly. "I miss you."

"I miss _you_," he agrees with a little, fond laugh. "I promise I'll get back as quick as I can tomorrow. We'll have the whole afternoon, evening and night to be together before you have to work. We can test out how much we've learned in a year."

Tingles break out across Tina's skin at the promise and she finds herself grinning broadly as she sips her hot coffee. "I'm in," she agrees, and then, "is it g-going okay up there? Really?"

He ends up telling her a story about ending up in the hotel bar with two fellow Stanford alums the previous night – a 46-year-old neurologist from Rhode Island and a 73-year-old obstetrician from Texas – and how the three of them had ended up drinking until the wee hours of the morning sharing stories of their alma mater. "It's going well," he assures her. "Like I said yesterday, my paper was well received and – oh! – this morning I was introduced to the head of fellowship from John's Hopkins. So my Dad'll be thrilled."

Mike's voice sounds honestly excited and it makes Tina smile. She's about to reply when she hears a voice sound on the other end of the phone, and Mike covers the mouth piece with his hand for a split second before returning. "Tee?"

"I'm here."

"Apparently they're calling us in so I have to go. But I'll be home tomorrow, as quickly as I can."

Her stomach jumps at the thought of seeing him, and then she smiles at the fact she can still have such a physical reaction, even after a year. "Okay. Have a g-good afternoon. C-call me before you go to sleep?"

"I will. Talk to you later."

He hangs up without saying goodbye or 'I love you', but Tina knows his private nature overtakes his romantic impulses when he's surrounded by unfamiliar colleagues. She sends him a text that's a line of hearts, and about ten seconds later is rewarded with just a screen full of 'x's. Setting her phone down on the table she tries to turn back to her work, but her heart just isn't in it.

Getting up, she wonders if that plaid underwear is still where she thinks it is.

XxX


	23. Chapter 23

She's not quite sure when her diary became such a mess, but as she flicks open to the week's page, Tina is surprised by the amount of red dots, circled dates and large stars that she passes. Then, running her finger down the week, a broad grin spreads across her face at the little red circle drawn on today's date. For a moment she considers phoning Mike, but he's at work (as she's supposed to be in a little over an hour) and besides, she knows she can do this herself.

In the bathroom cabinet, right at the back hidden behind the spare shampoos and boxes of tampons, Tina reaches in and pulls out the double pack of pregnancy tests that she'd bought and put back there after the previous pregnancy scare debacle. She snorts at the thought though; this time she's far from scared. Sure, her hands are shaking as she pulls out the instructions and carefully reads them, but she's pretty sure that's from the adrenalin.

Her phone – set on the side of the sink and ready to act as a timer – buzzes with a message from Quinn, and in that instant she _so _wants to message back exactly what she's doing. Because she knows Quinn would drop everything else and race over there to hold her hand or help her count down or just to _be _there. But she ignores the message for the moment; this is meant to be between her and Mike. So instead she reads the instructions over twice more before sitting down and trying to pee on the stick without dropping it in the toilet. She curses twice at her shaking hands but manages to set the stick on the sink's edge and set her phone counting down as she washes her hands.

Three minutes seems to take forever. She sits on the lip of the bathtub braiding and unbraiding her hair until it's a mess of tangles and she has to comb it through with her fingers. She's fairly certain she's chewed all the ruby red lipstick from her bottom lip.

When the alarm goes off, she can feel her heart beating hard in her throat, enough to make her nauseated. Swallowing thickly, she reads the instructions one more time – just to be sure – before picking up the stick.

A single red line stares back at her.

xXx

She's nearly late for work. She manages to get into the classroom just at the same time the girls are filing in from their bus, hanging up jackets and catching up on what's new since seeing each other earlier in the week. Bright laughter and enthusiastic voices fill the small room. Breaking away from the group, Keisha's just moved to hang her scarf up when she gets the first look at Tina's face.

"Hey Tee, have you been crying?"

Her voice sounds startled and her eyebrows arch in surprise, and her reaction prompts Tina to reach up and wipe her eyes with the back of her sleeve. "Just allergies," she assures the younger girl with a large sniff, though it doesn't negate the pallor in her cheeks or the downturn of her lips. "C-come on, how about we use the clay today?"

Keisha answers with a small nod, but when they sit down later at the table, she slides her hand from her sculpture, grabbing Tina's fingers and squeezing tightly.

xXx

When Mike gets home that night, Tina's curled up in the corner of the couch, a blanket wrapped tightly around her body and Cupcake Wars on the TV.

"Uh oh," he laughs, dropping his backpack on the floor near the door and toeing off his sneakers. "If you're watching cooking shows then something must have happened – did you break a heel off your boots again?" He's teasing, and normally she would laugh with him, but when she stays silent and just shakes her head, something begins to niggle at the bottom of his stomach. When he approaches the couch and sees the old tear tracks on her cheeks, his heart begins to thunder against his ribs. "Babe, what's wrong?"

He sits down on the couch by her hip, reaching up so he can cup her cheek in his hand. Closer up, he can see she's sad but not distraught, frustrated but not hysterical. His heart slows slightly. Lip quivering, she leans into his touch. "I'm still n-not pregnant," she says with a sniff, pulling the blanket up around her shoulders.

Sighing, he tugs her gently so he can wrap his arms around her. "It takes time," he reminds her again, his voice murmured against her temple. "Please don't be upset."

Burying her face in his neck, she breathes in the familiar, clean scent of his skin. "J-just… this time was different. I was actually l-late for my period. So I was so sure…" Tina shrugs her shoulders. "And now I'm crampy and d-disappointed and it j-just sucks."

He presses kisses to her temple, her cheek, the corner of her mouth, her neck. One hand wraps around her back and the other rubs gentle circles against her stomach. "I'm sorry," he tells her, and really means it because there's a stabbing feeling in his own chest too. "Tina, it will happen, okay?" She nods, mutely, and the despondence makes him sigh. "You want me to get you a hot water bottle? Some Advil or something?"

Shaking her head, she stands up, wrapping her fingers around his wrist. "Will you come to b-bed with me?" she asks, pushing her hair behind her ears. "This is the l-last chance we have for a few days."

In all honesty, he's tired, hungry, and really just wants a shower and some food before going to bed and trying to catch a few hours sleep before he has to work again in the morning. But seeing her pale cheeks and hopeful face, t-shirt falling just to mid-thigh, he can't say no to her. Plus, he's being offered sex on a silver platter, so it feels stupid to complain. "Sure," he agrees, reaching down and pulling his sweater off over his head. "Of course I will."

xXx

Tina's bag sits on the bed, and she hangs off the end, head disappearing underneath into the shadows. Mike, wandering into the room, watches her for a long moment without speaking. When he does, his words are laced with scepticism. "What are you doing?"

"Have you seen my b-black gloves?" she asks, her voice muffled under the blankets. "The l-lacy ones?"

"The fingerless ones?" he clarifies. "Not recently. Why?"

Sitting up finally, flipping her hair behind her, she shrugs. "I w-wanted to try something. D-doesn't matter I guess." Body clad only in an over-large t-shirt that Mike is pretty sure is his, Tina wraps her arms around her knees. "What are you d-doing?"

Kneeling down, Mike digs into his backpack, pulling out two thin files and a large heavy looking textbook. "Working," he says shortly, flicking through the pages with his finger until he finds the particular down-turned corner he was looking for. "Wes and I have this presentation at M&M about a case from a couple weeks ago and I need to make sure I have everything down." Standing up, he tucks the folders under his arm. "You need the table or you mind if I spread this stuff out on it?"

Shrugging her shoulders, Tina chews at her bottom lip. "It's okay," she assures him. "You g-gonna be long?"

Rubbing at the back of his neck with his free hand, Mike sighs. "Maybe. I mean, we did everything by the book but I don't want to leave any room for doubt." Glancing quickly at the clock as he shifts the book in his grip, he furrows his brow. "Aren't you meeting Quinn today?"

"Later," Tina agrees with a nod. "We were meant to be m-meeting to talk about this sit-in that's going on next week, b-but she had to head over to Marley's first."

"Marley's?" Mike echoes vaguely, his eyes scanning the pages of his book.

Standing up, Tina nods her head, grabbing the bottom of her t-shirt and pulling it over her head. Picking up her hairbrush, she runs it through her hair, pushing it back from her forehead and watching Mike as he half-listens. "Marley, you know? Her… I don't know, sister-in-law, I g-guess? Puck's brother's girlfriend. She's at CCNY and t-taking her midterms and apparently freaking out over her English Lit paper? Quinn's gone to help her with her bibliography."

"Mmhmm," Mike murmurs as he heads towards the door. "Good for her."

"Well, her own sister isn't interested so she's a g-good to Marley," Tina agrees. Twisting her hair up on the crown of her head, she secures it with a long clip. Then picking up a bottle of lotion, she squeezes some into the palm of her hands, rubbing it into her bare skin. "So d'you wanna quick b-break before you get settled down to work?" Finishing spreading the lotion over her legs, she steps up in front of him, cocking her naked hip in his direction. She presses a hand against his chest, biting her bottom lip. "Come on," she smiles. "Your shifts have been crazy; we've only had sex once in the last three d-days."

Sighing, Mike sets his books down, unable to keep a smile from tickling at the edges of his lips. He really has missed her. "I really shouldn't," he tries, shaking his head. "This is really important, Tee."

"I know," she agrees, nodding seriously as she leans into his body. "But I'm here, naked and ovulating. Isn't that important too?" Running her hands up his chest, she unfastens his shirt buttons one by one. Her sapphire painted fingernails are bright against his lightly tanned skin. "We can clear your head before you have to g-get to work."

Licking his lips, Mike rubs his thumb across her naked hip. "Tina," he murmurs with a grin. Leaning down, he tugs her bottom lip between his teeth. Then cupping the back of her head, he tangles his fingers in her hair, kissing her hard. "I have to write this report."

"Mmm," she murmurs into his mouth, rising up on the balls of her feet. Rocking her hips against his, she breathes in deeply, her breasts rising and falling. "So go write it."

Reaching up, Mike cups her breasts in his palms. Then, shaking his head, he lets his hands drop. "Tina, you know I want to…"

"Then don't stop," she argues, reaching out for his hands and giving an exaggerated pout as she laces their fingers together. Arching upwards she kisses his Adam's apple, making him groan.

His eyelids flutter shut for a moment. "_Tina…"_

Her hand works at the fly of his jeans and she's almost got three of the buttons free when his hand stills hers. "Tina," he says again, but this time less breathy and more serious. When she looks up at him, his face is apologetic. "I'm sorry baby. I want to but I really can't. I have to get this work done." Seeing the disappointment on her face, he reaches up and cups her cheek, pressing a kiss to her cheekbone, the bridge of her nose and her mouth. "I'll be as quick as I can okay? We'll pick this up as soon as I get done, I _promise." _

Taking a deep breath, Tina closes her eyes for a moment, her lashes dark against her pale cheeks. Stepping away from him, she takes her robe from the back of the door, wrapping it around her body and securing the sash before she answers. "Sure," she agrees with a short nod of her head, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "When you g-get done."

Leaning down, he picks up his books and files, holding them in his arms. "I'll be in the kitchen."

"Okay," Tina nods her head. "I'm going to get some stuff ready for my m-meeting," she adds, indicating her earlier abandoned bag with a vague sweep of her hand.

"Okay," he agrees in echo. Then after a beat, "Are you sure you're okay?"

Rolling her eyes, Tina grabs a pair of socks from atop the dresser and sits down to pull them onto her bare feet. "I'm fine," she assures him. Then waving her hand in dismissal, she gives a small smile. "Go and do your w-work, would you?"

xXx

It's nearly three hours later when Mike finally stands up from the strict wooden kitchen chair, his spine clicking in sequence as he straightens up from bottom to top. Stretching his arms above his head, he winces as his shoulder pops and then stacks his folders away. Closing the laptop with a click he takes a deep breath, letting it out through his lips with a long sigh.

Listening to the silence in the apartment he vaguely realises it's been over an hour since he last saw Tina as she wended through the kitchen to refill her tea. Wandering through the hall, he stops at the door to their bedroom, leaning his broad shoulder against the frame. "I'm done," he calls into the room; he knows she's in the bathroom because the door is ajar and he can hear the tap running. "You want to pick up where we left off?"

Poking her head out, she seems almost surprised to hear him. Fixing a hairpin in her curls, she steps out of the bathroom and he's disappointed to see her fully dressed, black lacy over-the-knee socks pulled up and matching the detailing on her flare-skirted dress. "It's four o'clock," she tells him, and he knows that should mean something because she looks at him expectantly. Then realizing he doesn't understand, she clarifies. "I said I'd be at Quinn's at 4:30. She got a sitter for Beth, I c-can't be late."

Shrugging his shoulders, he nods his head. "Sure," he agrees, but his voice is tinged with disappointment. "Okay."

Slinging her messenger bag across her body, she looks up at him. "I'm sorry Mike, but I t-told you I was busy this evening. That's why I asked you for time earlier."

"I didn't realize you'd be gone all night," he admits as she passes him by, and he follows her through the hall and into the kitchen, where she picks up her scarf, winding it around her neck. Her black coat comes next and he watches her button it from throat to knee. "I thought we might have time while you're still ovulating. Otherwise it's another month."

There's a pause and Tina swallows thickly as she pulls her scarf clear of her collar. "I know," she agrees, and her voice is oddly soft. "I'm sorry." Then pushing her hair back from her face she looks at him hopefully. "I shouldn't be too late – around midnight? M-maybe we'll have time when I get home?"

"I'm on early tomorrow," he says with a shake of his head. "I'm going to be asleep by ten."

Reaching out, her gloved hand brushes his. "I'll try and g-get home early."

Nodding his head, he presses a kiss to her cheek. "So I'll maybe see you later."

He watches her pull a sparkly white beret on over her hair and the door swing quietly shut behind her.

xXx

Pushing open the door, he's met with a flurry of dark pigtails and a simple order. "Take off your pants."

His back is pushed against the hanging coats and warm lips descend onto his, hard and fast and slick with gloss. "Hi," he greets as she pulls away a fraction, her hands going to his belt.

"Hi," she replies with a grin, before requesting once again, "Take off your pants."

He knows it's foolish to argue, even when he's been working since five pm the evening before and is running on a couple stolen moments of shut-eye in the on-call room, and half a cheese danish. She's damp from the shower and only wearing a short silky robe so he lets her work the fly for him and push his pants down to his knees. His boxers follow shortly and her lips wrapping warmly around his cock are enough to have his brain sputtering back to life. "God, Tina," he manages, swallowing his shock.

She pulls back just enough to lick her lips and grin. "Hi," she says again. "So guess what?"

"What?" he asks cautiously; her touch trails up and down his thigh, making his muscles quiver.

"So I know I was m-meant to be finished ovulating a couple days ago," she tells him, standing up and pulling his t-shirt over his head, linking her hands behind his neck. Leaning in, she presses a long, slow kiss to the point just below his ear that makes him instantly hard. Her next words are a whisper into his skin. "But I'm feeling lucky."

Her leg hooks around his hip and she grabs him in hand, sliding onto him without preamble. They both groan and Mike shifts his stance so he can hold her more firmly and bite down on her shoulder as she rocks against him. He watches her nipples bob in the shadowed valley between their bodies; her silk robe flutters behind her back like a banner.

The next morning another test comes up negative and she throws it in the trash with a bitter curse. She hides under the blankets and pretends to be asleep when he comes into the room, and he pretends not to see the tear track on her cheeks.

xXX

Four days later, he watches her pack her bag again, this time at the kitchen table. He sits on the couch, his fingers laced together and his shoulders hunched over. "I just don't understand why you have to have Rachel on standby."

Picking up a stack of leaflets, Tina slides them into a binder, easing it into her over crowded bag. "Because p-people will find any excuse to m-make a peaceful protest less than peaceful," she reminds him, even though she's been saying the same words – and variations on them – for the past hour. "Quinn and I always g-give Rachel a heads up when things m-might not go our way."

Raking his hands through his hair, Mike sighs loudly, dropping his head so it rests on the back of the couch. "Okay. Another thing I don't understand. Why do this when you know it might not go your way?"

Going over to the kitchen cupboard she grabs a handful of granola bars, zipping them inside one of the pockets. "Why give someone surgery when you know they've only got f-forty percent chance of survival?" she shoots back loftily. Then coming over to him, she cups his face in her hands, pressing a short kiss to his lips. "Hope, Michael. Quinn and I are p-positive people, we hope we w-won't need Rachel's help at all. But we also met in the b-back of a cop car so we plan for the worst as well."

Watching her walk away and fill a bottle with water from the tap, Mike allows himself a moment to let that sink in. "You and Quinn met in the back of a cop car?"

His voice is kind of thin and high and a grin spreads over Tina's face as she screws the top on the bottle. "Yep. My Junior year at NYU. One of the professors in the Sociology department had been spouting off some p-pretty incendiary stuff about the gender gap and 'w-women's roles in society' in the school paper." Tightening her ponytail, she rolls her shoulders backwards to ease out the kinks. "A couple of friends and I organised a sit-in the Dean's office, calling for a retraction. It was m-meant to just be a small thing but then word got out and it ended up being this _huge _thing. P-people from all over and joined us and the police came and tried to m-move us on but no one would go, and so they ended up arresting everyone." She ducks her chin to her chest, as if to hide her smile; as though to hide her pride at the event. "Quinn and I got shoved into the same car. She was in her Senior year at Columbia and almost missed her Communications midterm before we could make bail. The rest is history."

Shaking his head, Mike reaches forwards for his cup of coffee, taking a long drink of the dark bitter liquid. His nose wrinkles at the fact he's left it long enough to grow tepid, but he takes another sip nonetheless. "And Puck?" he asks, "How does he factor in?"

Tina's laugh is full and warm and it makes him smile because she sounds so honestly amused at the memory and he's missed her sounding so blithe. "When I met Puck he was living on the couch of a guy called… god, w-what was his name… Jeff? Jeff and Puck w-worked together at this seedy bar that used to be up on 103rd Street and Jeff was d-dating a guy called Nick and Nick was friends with Rory. And we all ended up in the bar one night after a really f-fucked up day, still half blind from tear gas, and Jeff and Puck decided it was their m-mission to ply us with enough alcohol we w-wouldn't notice our eyes." Tugging on a strand of hair, Mike watches as Tina thinks back. "Quinn got so drunk she was d-dancing on the table doing – what I think can only b-be described as an impression of Stevie Nicks on acid and, you know, that w-worked for Puck. He was smitten from d-day one. Kind of stuck with us after that."

Mike knows he should really have been paying attention to the history of two of his friends, but his ears get stuck on two words and his mind loops them over and over until they spill from his lips. "Tear gas?"

He can see Tina curse inwardly; she was hoping he would have missed that detail in the layers of story. "Yes," she says simply. "Crowd control."

Lips down turned, he asks, "Do they use it a lot?"

At first, Tina shakes her head, but then shrugs her shoulders. "Not a lot," she assures him. "Sometimes."

Mike feels his throat working, and then words fall from his lips. "You know there's an increased risk of miscarriage and stillbirth in women who are exposed to tear gas?" he tells her. "I read a study about fertility in the Middle East and it said –"

Tina's voice cuts him off, her tone hard. "I guess it's good I'm not pregnant then isn't it?"

He stares at her for a moment. "Tina -"

"I'm not," she repeats, turning away from him so he can't see her face. Her tone is confusing and muddled and he doesn't know how to respond. "I'm n-not this month, I wasn't the m-month before or the m-month before that. So at least I d-don't have to worry about hurting anyone, okay?" She turns just a fraction, enough for him to watch her hand sweep over her midriff. "There's nothing inside me to p-put in danger. We both know that. I am 100% d-definitely _n-not _pregnant."

He finds himself sitting stock-still on the couch. "Are you angry?" His stomach churns and he can feel guilt bubbling up in the back of his throat like acid.

Dropping her head, Tina's face is obscured by her hair. "I'm frustrated."

Mike spends the afternoon and evening lying flat out on the couch, alternating between staring at the ceiling and being transfixed by the news coverage of the sit-in. He gives in long enough to call Puck and worry, but Puck simply scoffs and tells him that the girls – _women – _will be fine and he has to go because Beth's dumped Kool-Aid on the rug and Quinn'll kill him if it stains. It doesn't make Mike feel better. Puck reminds him that he's not so great at assurances and if he wants some sympathy he'd do better calling Berry or Kurt. Mike thanks him for the advice.

The news station stops covering the sit-in after hour four when they switch over to one of the panel shows where guests yell at each other and all claim to know better than one another. It gives Mike a headache so he decides to give up for the night.

Tossing and turning, Mike barely drops off to sleep when he hears tiptoed footsteps entering the room, and a small body slip between the sheets next to him. Her skin is still wind-chilled and she smells faintly of lemongrass and girl-sweat but she curls herself against his back and presses her lips to his bare shoulder.

"I'm home," she murmurs softly, not knowing if he is fully awake- not wanting to disturb him if he's not- but he turns over so they're face to face. Touching her cheek, he's relieved to see her uninjured; no blood, no bruises, no expression of pain.

"I'm sorry," he tells her, though he isn't really sure why. He just knows he didn't like her leaving him earlier with such a sad expression on her face.

Wriggling a little up the bed, she presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "No," she shakes her head "Mike, _I'm_ sorry."

He breathes a little sigh of relief then, tugging her closer to him so her head rests on his shoulder. She throws a leg over his and it feels good: relaxed and comfortable and fitting. Tina's hand sweeps gently over his stomach and hips in a hypnotic, lulling rhythm. As they lie silent, Mike can feel his eyelids begin to grow heavy and his lashes beating against his cheeks. He's right on the precipice of sleep when the blankets shift next to him, and he cracks his eyelids to find Tina straddling his hips. "Sshhh," she says softly, leaning down to kiss him. He kisses back without thought, his hands coming up to her waist to steady her.

The moonlight breaks through the curtains he hadn't bothered to pull properly closed, and highlight the curve of her full breasts and the smooth skin of her stomach. His eyes trace the pattern down to where their bodies join and he finds himself responding to her touch without too much conscious thought. Her hair tumbles down her back as he uses the pad of his thumb, sweeping over her clit as she takes him inside; her muscles flutter and falter and her breathing hitches in her chest.

He knows they used to make it more about her. Even in his half-conscious foggy state, he knows things have changed because now all the touches, the kisses, the caresses seem to be for him and him alone. When he pulls out and tries to replace his cock with his fingers – to massage, to entice, to tease - she shakes her head and reaches down for him. When she can tell he's nearly at his tipping point she rolls them over so he's pinning her to the mattress, even though he knows she likes to be on top.

He comes hard and tumbling, uncontrolled and exhausted. He has to curl up on his side for a moment to catch his breath but then his hands go seeking her. Tugging her back against his chest he lets his hand feather down her body and dip between her legs where he finds her still wet and wanting. He's just letting his fingers begin their exploration when she stills his hand. "It's okay," she murmurs, clenching her knees together to block his movements. "Go to sleep, we can do it again in the morning."

Confused, Mike knows his nose must wrinkle and he tries to edge her thighs apart with his fingers. "Wanna finish you now," he tells her, his free hand pinching her nipple lightly.

She sucks in a breath but doesn't move her legs. "Mike, come on, I'm tired. Please."

His hand stops instantly. "Really?" he asks.

There's a beat and then, "Get to sleep now and we can try properly again in the morning. Twice a day doubles our chance of conceiving."

Resting his head on her shoulder, Mike lets out a sigh.

xXx


	24. A brief note

Hi everyone. I'm sorry that you got an alert for this and then it isn't a new chapter. The thing is, I've had a few messages/reviews asking if I've given up on this fic and I just wanted to say NO I HAVEN'T. I know it's been a couple months since the last update but I promise Dr Mike is not over. It's just been a really busy time and the news about Cory knocked me off my Glee game for a while. There is more story though, more lovely friendships and of course more Tike.

So thank you everyone who is still following, reading, reviewing, re-reading, thinking about this fic and caring enough to ask. I promise this chapter will be replaced very soon with an actual REAL chapter.

Take care everyone, and Tike forever!


	25. Chapter 25

Dear all. I can't begin to apologise for how long it has taken me to get this chapter out. In truth, it's been written for a really long time, but what wasn't written was anything afterwards. I was really thrown for a loop by Cory's death, more than I expected, and it affected my motivation a lot. I found it really hard to write the happy ending for all of them when I felt like in real life so much of the real happiness was gone. Added to that the way they have treated the character of Tina in canon, and the way they seem to be acting as though Tike never happened or was never important, I felt more than a little rocked.

THAT BEING SAID, everyone who has been reading this, asking after it, or wondering over a new chapter, YOU are the reason I continue this, and intend to continue it at least until a natural stopping point. It will not continue to the original end, but it will have an ending, I promise.

Also, sorry for bringing you back to a shaky, unsure patch of Tike. I promise in my heart, Tike is forever.

Love always to Chickee.

xxxxx

The heels of Tina's boots clatter on the street and she watches the wheels of the stroller turn round and round and skate over little icy patches. Beth – bundled up in a puffy coat that makes her look more like a beach ball than a baby, not that Tina thinks she can really call her a baby anymore now she's running around and talking non-stop and has an extremely strong sense of self – keeps fussing with her hat as it slips down over her eyes.

"You're sure it's okay I invited her?" Quinn asks for the fifth time in as many minutes, leaning forward on her tiptoes as they walk so she can reach down and fix Beth's toque. Beth pouts her little rosebud lips and goes to pull the hat off but one stern look from Quinn is enough for her to leave it where it is. "I know this is usually our time together but she's been so stressed out with college and Jake's worried she hasn't been eating – she used to be bulimic, I told you that, right?"

"Mmhmm," Tina nods noncommittally, hands shoved deep in her pockets, face turned down against the biting winter winds whipping between the tall buildings.

Quinn gives her an odd look but carries on. "So Jake calls Noah, and Noah's wonderful advice is 'don't spaz out, just buy an everything pizza and leave it in the fridge, she'll eat when she's hungry'. At that point I took the phone away and told Jake to have Marley meet us so we can at least make sure she's having one good meal. Tina?"

The tone of Quinn's voice is enough to have Tina's head snapping up, and she realises they've reached the small corner restaurant that they'd chosen for the day's lunch date. She moves around the stroller so she can open the door – assuming this is the cause for Quinn's prompting – but then stops at the feel of a hand on her arm.

"What's going on?" Quinn's question is direct and pointed, even as she leans down and unclips Beth from her harness. The little girl wriggles out of the straps and dances a small dance of freedom, ripping her hat off of her golden curls with glee. Taking hold of Beth's hand – and closing the stroller with a flick of a handle, a kick of a single metal bar, and an ease that makes it look like witchcraft – Quinn raises her eyebrows. "It's been weeks now and I've let it go, but I'm worried. You're not yourself and I know you probably don't want to hear it, but do you think you need to talk to your doctor about going back on the Zoloft?"

It's not the question Tina expects, so she chokes on a reply, following wordlessly as they get lead to their table and their waiter brings the highchair over for Beth. Only when the little girl is sat down and handed a box of raisons – a ubiquitous item in Quinn's purse – does Tina answer. "I'm n-not depressed," she hisses softly from between her teeth, not wanting to distract Beth from her snack. "Quinn I'm _fine." _

The expression on Quinn's face is unconvinced. "No, you're not. And before you accuse me of mother-henning, I'm not the only one who's noticed. Kurt's worried too."

"He is not," Tina scoffs, because she'd talked to him on the phone last night and he mentioned nothing about any concern.

The waiter returns with their drinks – large glasses of white wine for them and a juice box for Beth – and Quinn takes a sip of the tart fruity liquid before answering. "He called me the minute he got off the call with you last night. You're…I don't know Tina, you're phoning in conversations, we've both noticed. He says you've missed lunch with him twice in the last month and when you did go you picked at your food and looked like you hadn't slept in days."

The words come as a shock and Tina can feel her spine stiffen. Crossing her legs, she licks her lips slowly and keeps her eyes fixed on the bubbles popping in her glass. "I'm sorry," she starts slowly, and she can taste the acrid burn of guilt in the back of her throat. "I d-didn't mean to be ignoring you both. I just, uh - "

She doesn't get to answer because at that moment two things happen at once. The waiter arrives to take their order just as a pale faced brunette trips through the door and waves at the three of them with a large grin.

"Hi!" Marley greets brightly as she slides into the extra chair, leaning over and giving Beth a warm kiss on the cheek that makes the little girl laugh and shove her away with a stubborn, _no. _ "I'm sorry I'm late – the Super turned up just as I was about to leave to look at our leaky faucet so I had to wait with him. Sorry," she says again to the waiter who stands, holding his notebook in hand and glancing around the hub of tables. "Oh my god, I've been dreaming about cheeseburgers for a week."

Tina can read relief on Quinn's face when the younger girl orders a burger and fries and a soda, and Tina and Quinn both get the club sandwich and Beth gets fish sticks and green peas and by the time the waiter leaves Tina hopes that Quinn has forgotten her previous line of questioning. Quinn's hand reaching down to her knee and giving her a soft squeeze tells her it's not that simple.

Marley's has the bright-eyed bubbliness of someone who has been stuck inside studying for too long a stretch and rambles for a good ten minutes non-stop about her midterms. She and Tina get into a conversation about the Medicis – Tina had studied the family in Art History, Marley in History straight – and they're discussing the places they would visit if they were to visit Florence when a little voice interrupts.

"Mommy I need peepee!"

Beth has no subtlety and a voice that manages to piece through the crowds – making the older couple on the table next to them snicker – but she also has no patience, so Quinn unbuckles her with practiced ease and the two of them head hand-in-hand down the small hallway and disappear into the bathroom.

The waiter chooses that moment to bring their food so Marley and Tina sort out dishes in the right spots and Tina cuts up Beth's fish sticks, adding a small handful of her own fries to the plate. She's just taken a bite of her sandwich when Marley comments, "I'm glad to see you here today. I thought maybe you wouldn't come; Quinn said you've been sick?"

It's a light, polite question, but Tina feels her skin prickle and she chews slowly before swallowing. She's not sure what prompts her, but suddenly words are falling from her lips. "My boyfriend and I are trying to g-get pregnant and it's n-not going well," she admits, and saying the words out loud are like a weight off her chest.

Marley looks surprised by the admission – her blue eyes wide and round – but she says simply, "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know."

Tina can feel a lump in her throat but she swallows around it. "No one does," she explains simply, taking a sip of her wine. "It's just been p-playing on my mind."

"I can understand," Marley nods, and Tina thinks her sympathy is sweet, even if no, really she can't understand at all, because she's 23 and Tina knows from Quinn that she and Jake seem to have a pregnancy scare about every other month: all passion and not a lot of sense. But she's well meaning, and Tina appreciates it.

Licking her lips – tasting the tartness – Tina curses inwardly and reaches out, laying her hand fleetingly on Marley's arm. "Do you m-mind not mentioning this to Quinn? Mike and I – we w-want to keep this private, I shouldn't even have t-told you, I'm sorry."

Beth runs up to the table and they can see Quinn coming down the hall and so Marley simply picks up her niece and lets her eat the pickle from off her plate. "Sure," she agrees, but her tone is a little confused and her eyes are still wide. "No problem."

They turn back to their lunch and Quinn sits down and begs them _please_ to stop talking about Renaissance Italy, and it makes Tina laugh enough that Quinn smiles at her and leans into her, their shoulders bumping. Tina knows it's meant as an apology for her earlier brow beating so she pokes Quinn in the side, a tacit sign of acceptance.

xXx

"Heads up Boy Chang!"

A granola bar hits him in the ear before he has time to react, and as it bounces off he manages to catch it more by luck than judgement. He's pleased to see it's cherry chocolate chip – his favourite – so he can't scold Santana with more than a simple eye roll. "Thanks, I guess."

She ignores the sarcasm, plopping into the squashy chair next to him with a grin. "You're welcome." Ripping the wrapper from her own granola bar, she takes a large bite and speaks around her mouthful, "What's with you lately?"

Legs crossed in a kindergartener pose and her head cocked at an inquisitive angle, Mike wants to simply ignore her and finish his coffee and his email to his dad, but he knows she's not going to let up. Sighing, he stands up and puts his phone away in his locker. "What do you mean?"

Eyebrows raised, Santana grabs a can of soda from the small table in front of her and pops the tab. "Seriously? You want to play this game?"

His only response is to shrug, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back on the cold metal lockers.

Reclining in her chair she crosses her legs at the ankle, propping them on the table and pointing at him with a well-manicured fingernail. "I get that you're a serious guy. That we do a serious job. But shit, Mike, do you even know what you were like out there?"

His skin prickles and he avoids her eyes, reaching up he rubs at the back of his neck, "San…"

"Sam's in the cafeteria with Sugar right now trying to convince her not to quit medical school altogether. She was crying in the restroom for forty minutes."

A wriggly feeling starts in his stomach and he tries to tamp it down by furrowing his brow and pressing his heels hard into the floor. "She almost killed someone Santana. If I can't trust her to read the difference between 20 and 200 then she shouldn't be here."

"You screamed at her Mike," Santana says with a look of disbelief. "In front of everybody."

"I was trying to save someone's life, I didn't exactly have time to discuss it over coffee."

He knows he's being defensive and can hear his tone of voice growing hard. Studying Santana's face, he knows she can feel his discomfort too. Pursing her lips, she folds her arms across her own chest, mirroring his stance. "Okay, well I'm not going to remind you of the many _many _mistakes you made as a student and how many times I pulled your ass out of the fire - "

"San - "

"No, I'm not going to do that. I'm not going to remind you that Sugar's been one of the best medical students we've had and I'm not going to suggest you maybe cut her some slack seeing as how she's been working for 40 hours straight without so much as a lunch break. I _am_ going to say this: sort your shit out Mike."

"Santana, _seriously_ - "

"No I mean it." Standing up, she drains the last of her soda and tosses the can in the trash without looking him in the face. It's her expression of unease that lets him know that she's not kidding around, and the realisation is like a punch to the chest.

His heart canters in fresh panic. "I know I've been kind of off – it's been a bad couple months is all. San, honestly - "

Walking past him, she rests a hand on his shoulder with a fleeting touch. "Look, take a break, a couple days off. Hell, take a vacation if you have to, but sort out whatever it is that's going on in your head. Because you're not being a good doctor right now and if I need to I'll go to Bieste and tell her that."

He stands for a long moment feeling like his jaw is somewhere around his knees. His stomach clenches and he feels like he might throw up right there on the floor of the doctor's lounge. Looking at his face, she squeezes his shoulder lightly, and he can read overwhelming apology in the touch.

Sliding down the metal doors, Mike ends up on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest and his face buried in his hands. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, feeling guilt and exhaustion tumble and vie for dominance in his gut. He can taste the granola bar he's just eaten trying to worm it's way into the back of his throat. He fists his hair in his hands. "Shit, Santana, I'm so sorry."

There's a large sigh and then he feels her small body pressed against his and a thin arm across his shoulders. The comfort is overwhelming and he finds himself sniffing, hard.

"Oh shit, you're not going to cry like a girl are you?" Santana teases, and it's enough to break the moment, to make him laugh out loud.

"No," he promises, sitting up, taking a deep breath. "No I'm good."

Santana pulls herself upright first, and drags him to standing with a tug on his hand. "You sure?"

There's a whole load of worry and wondering packed in those two words, but Mike finds himself nodding anyways. "Yeah. Sugar's in the cafeteria?"

"Yeah. And she likes those pink cupcakes from the vending machine."

"Okay. Hey San?" He stops her with a touch to her arm.

"Yeah?"

He wants to say all sorts, he wants to tell her everything about why he can't sleep and why he feels like a fuck up and why he's taking his frustration out on poor unsuspecting med students, but somehow those words don't seem to come. Instead, he squeezes her hand lightly. "Nothing. Just thanks."

She blows him a kiss and lets the swinging door shut behind her.

xXx

His head is whirring when he gets home, thudding at his temples. It feels like his brain is trying to make an escape out of his skull. The sight of the apartment door lets him relax, and he breathes in deeply, imagining his warm shower and his soft sheets and maybe a pizza in the oven. Working his keys in the lock, he shoves the door with a barge of his shoulder – it sticks in the cold weather – and is pleased to find Tina sitting at the kitchen table, her sketchbook spread in front of her and her glasses on her nose. At the sight of him she looks up and grins. "Hey."

Her smile lifts something from him, a burden, and he drops his backpack on the floor, toeing off his shoes. "Hey," he greets back, stepping up behind her and kissing the top of her head, looking at the drawings in front of her. He recognises Kurt's baby face and knows this must be for Burt's birthday present. "Looks good."

"Thanks," she smiles, standing up so she can wrap her arms around his neck, giving him a proper kiss hello. "I b-booked our tickets today, I hope that's okay. It's in the d-dates you gave me but means we have a couple days clear. I can show you around m-my old haunts."

"Mmm, I'd like that," he agrees. Leaning down, he kisses her again. "You have no idea how glad I am to be home today." Her hands toy with the short hair at the nape of his neck, and he has to stop himself purring at how good it feels. He'd quite like to curl up with her on the couch and stay there until he feels human again.

"Bad day?" she asks, feathering kisses along his jaw, stopping to nip the skin lightly, making him laugh.

"Bad day," he agrees, arching his neck so she can press hot kisses to his skin. Each time her lips meet his flesh it's like a tiny bit of his bad day leaches away, and he cups her face, bringing her lips to his.

They kiss once, and again, and then Tina's giggling into his mouth. "I can make you feel better?" she suggests, her words a murmur, but coupled with her hands sliding down his chest.

His hands stay at her waist, but the minute her fingers slip under his shirt and skate over his skin he pulls away. "Tee," he begins, breaking off their kiss. "I know you want to help but…I mean, can we just…I want to go for a run first, okay? Take a shower, have some dinner. It really was a sucky day."

He sort of laughs as he says it, and he knows that's a mistake as soon as he does it, because then Tina's standing on her tiptoes, still giggling and pressing her lips to the corner of his mouth. "Come on," she murmurs, hands gripping at his shirtfront. "Five m-minutes, it's all I'm asking."

"Five minutes?" he says, sounding partly confused and partly frustrated. His hands come up to her shoulders, easing her away. "Tina, seriously, doesn't that tell you something?"

"What do you mean?"

Moving back from her, he fists his hair in his hands and takes a deep breath, exhaling raggedly over his lips. "Since when is five minutes enough to have sex? It usually takes longer than that just to get you warmed up."

Shrugging her shoulders, Tina twists a small smile onto her lips. "You d-don't need to. I don't have to orgasm to g-get pregnant." Reaching out, she wraps her fingers around his wrist. "Come on Mike, I'm in the m-middle of my cycle, this is when we have the b-best chance of conceiving." He doesn't respond for a long moment, half turned away from her, and when he finally faces her again, Tina's surprised to see him looking upset.

"I can't keep doing this," he tells her after a deep breath, staring down at their joined hands.

Tina's heart staggers; it drops to her stomach and make her feel instantly sick. "What do you mean?"

Reaching up, Mike rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. "This. I feel like…God Tina, I feel like…like we never have sex anymore just for fun. Like all we do is work for this baby and it doesn't even matter how it makes us feel. Like you don't even care if you enjoy it anymore, and I'm not…I'm not okay with that. I just need a break."

Body ridged, Tina looks up at him with wide, fearful eyes. Her voice is a whisper over pale, dry lips. "From us?"

Realising she has completely misunderstood him, Mike shakes his head vehemently. "No, of course not," he tells her, reaching up and cupping her cheek, pushing hair behind her ear. He presses a warm kiss there, relaxing for a beat just to breathe in the scent of her coco-mango hair. His words are a tickled breath against her neck. "Of course not from us. I love you Tina."

"I love you too," she says softly, tugging again on his hand. "Come on, we love each other, let's g-go and prove it." Her smile has softened into a cheeky grin and she leans in, pressing her body against his. "If you're tired I promise I'll d-do most of the work."

Groaning in frustration Mike steps away, hands reaching up to fist in his hair. "You're not _listening_ to me," he tells her, irritated. "I _don't_ want to have sex right now. Okay? And it's not because I don't love you and it's not because I don't want to have a baby with you. I just…I don't _feel_ like it."

"Mike - " she starts, her voice soft, but he cuts her off with a raised hand.

"It's just too much pressure. Every time you take a test and it's negative I feel like you're disappointed in me."

She stands, mouth agape, and wraps her arms around her waist. "I'm not…Mike, I n-not disappointed in you," she manages, and he can hear tears creeping into her voice, even as she swallows thickly to force them down. "I j-just thought this was something we both wanted."

He wants to stamp his feet but he knows that would be immature, so he just exhales heavily and drops into one of the kitchen chairs. "It is. Tina of _course_ it is, but I don't want that to be all we're about anymore. Do you know we missed the season finale of Dancing with the Stars? I mean, I know that's stupid but…that used to be something we liked. Something we shared. I mean, I miss being able to come home to you and just spend an evening watching tv. Or watching you drawing or painting, or reading your magazines or trashy books. But I feel like whenever I'm home you either want to jump me or you don't even want to look at me. Like I've let you down."

The words have been curdling in his stomach for a long time and all he can do is stand and watch as they spill from his lips like bile.

A tear burbles at the corner of Tina's eye and trickles down her nose. She wipes it away with a swipe of her thumb and sniffs hard. "I'm not…you _haven't,_" she manages, her voice a croak in the quiet. As another tear drips off her lashes, and another, she breathes in a long, shaky breath. "I don't understand," she tells him, shaking her head. "I know this is m-my fault but I d-don't know what to do."

At this point she's truly crying, her shoulders shaking and her words coming in hiccups and it breaks Mike's heart to see. Crossing the distance between them in two large strides he wraps her up in his arms, holding her firmly against his chest. "Come on," he murmurs into her hair, swaying them lightly as her breathing shudders. He rubs his large hand up and down her back. "Tina, please, please don't cry."

"I'm sorry," she mumbles into his shirt, and he can tell she's leaving tear marks because he can feel the damp patches against his chest. "I'm trying."

They stand like that for a long time, just holding one another, Tina's sniffles and hiccups loud in the quiet room. Mike himself has to squeeze his eyes shut tightly and take some deep breaths to keep calm. Eventually they find themselves on the couch, facing each other. Tina's face is pale and her eyes puffy and red. She clutches a cushion to her chest. "What now?" she manages, and her voice is so quiet that it's barely audible.

Leaning on his crooked arm, Mike thinks for a long beat. "I go for a run," he finally manages. "Then I come home, take a shower. We eat some dinner. Then we sit for a while and talk. Okay?"

Nodding her head as he stands up, Tina wipes her eyes with the back of her wrist. "P-promise you'll come home?"

The words still Mike's feet, and when he turns around to face Tina, he looks sadder than she's ever seen him look. "Please don't make me feel like you have to ask that," he breathes, rubbing his forehead. "Tina…you know you don't have to."

Neither one of them say anymore. He changes into his running shorts and wife beater and laces up his sneakers carefully. Grabbing his ipod, he clips it onto his bicep and hangs the headphones around his neck. Re-entering the living room, he finds Tina still curled up on the sofa, this time with a blanket tugged round her shoulders and the food channel playing low on the tv. "I'm going out," he tells her needlessly. "I won't be long, okay? We can order some food when I get back."

She stares at him for a while, and then licks her lips. "It's cold out," she says simply. "Maybe freezing."

Picking up his hoody from the back of the door, he pulls it on, zipping it up his chest. "Thanks."

She doesn't say anything else, she just leans her head down on the arm of the couch and turns her eyes back to the baking on screen. Mike feels his gut twist but pulls his hood up and opens the door. He tries to ignore the sound of sniffles as he shuts it behind him.

xXx

Three hours later and they're sitting across from each other on the bed, cross-legged. Tina's wearing threadbare leggings and toying with a loose string, and Mike's hair is still damp and sticking up in the back. Reaching across, he stills her hands and laces their fingers together, and it seems to be this action that prompts her to speak.

"Do you know why I'm an only child?"

It's not the question Mike was expecting, so he answers simply. "No…"

Worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, Tina stares at their joined hands, at their bent knuckles and smooth fingers. "My parents got m-married really young. High School sweethearts," she smiles. "And they got offered this j-job – this great job – travelling around South America and writing a travel b-book for the young Korean market. They b-both love to travel. And, you know, they were j-just out of college. So they agreed they'd go travelling for a couple years, and then settle d-down and start a family."

Mike can tell – as with most of Tina's long recitations – she's been thinking about this for a long time, about her words, about her meanings. So he keeps quiet and just squeezes her hand. She smiles gratefully. "So two years go b-by and they go b-back to Ohio, and start trying to have a baby. And then a year passes, and nothing. And the b-book was so popular they g-get offered a job to do a follow-up in Europe. And it's g-good money, so they agree, and say if they g-get pregnant while they're travelling they'll finish up the b-book and come home."

"So what happened?" he prompts gently, lifting her hand up and pressing a kiss in the centre of her palm. "Were you conceived somewhere exciting? A Paris baby? London? Venice?"

His tone is teasing but soft, and makes her smile as she shakes her head. "They found out they were pregnant in Vienna. But, uh, my Mom had a m-miscarriage before they left Austria."

Mike turns over her hand, kissing her knuckles. "I'm sorry," he murmurs.

"It was a long time ago," she acknowledges, watching as his lips press against each of the pads of her fingers. "So they carried on travelling. And m-my Mom got pregnant three m-more times and lost it every time. They c-came home to see d-doctors but they couldn't say why it was happening. And after a while it just stopped. They c-couldn't get pregnant at all." She removes one of her hands, and Mike wonders if she's going to pull away completely, but she just pushes her hair back from her face. "So they gave up. They cried about it and fought about it and then realised it wasn't g-going to happen for them, so they decided they were g-going to lead a life of adventure instead. They w-went travelling across Russia." Taking a long breath, Tina's voice drops until it's so quiet, even in the silent room. "That's why I know this is m-my fault. I'm the reason we c-can't get pregnant Mike."

Mike's eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, and he takes a long breath. "Why didn't you tell me you were adopted?"

It's enough to break the melancholy, and Tina laughs softly and shakes her head. "I'm not."

Furrowed brows and gold-fishing mouth, Mike shakes his head, "Then why?"

"It was another year before they g-got pregnant with me. And my Mom almost m-miscarried twice. Mike, I know there's something wrong with m-me. I know I'm the reason why the t-tests keep being negative and I'm so sorry. I've felt so guilty I j-just…I couldn't say anything. I feel like I c-can't give you something you w-want and it's been killing me."

"Tina," his voice is hushed, and letting go of her hands, he gives in and tugs her whole body until she's sitting in his lap, his arms around her waist, chest against her back and forehead resting on her shoulder. "Why didn't you tell me? I thought you were mad at me. I thought, I don't know, you blamed me."

"How could I blame you when it's m-my fault?" Tina asks with a shaky hiccupped laugh.

Squeezing her tight, Mike presses a kiss in the gap between her shoulder and neck. "Tina, it's not your fault. Honestly."

She leans back into his touch, pulling his arms tighter around her waist. "Mike…I told you about my Mom, I - "

"Tee…" he rubs his hand along her stomach, kissing her neck again. "I know you did but, they had you. And I'm not a doctor – oh wait, I _am _a doctor," he jokes, tickling her sides to make her laugh. "If doctors couldn't say why your mother was miscarrying, and then your parents _did _get pregnant…Tina, I don't think there's anything wrong. I mean…I know this is sucking. But it takes time…for some people it takes days and for other people it takes years."

His voice sounds disappointed, and her lips downturn. Her voice is pleading. "I don't w-want it to take years Mike. I don't."

Shifting them so they're at the head of the bed, half reclined, propped on elbows and looking at each other, Mike speaks. "So here's my plan," he tells her, toying with her hair. "We keep trying and if we get to six months and still nothing, then we'll go and get checked out, okay? Just to make sure there's nothing wrong."

Nodding her head, Tina sniffles. "You w-won't be embarrassed to talk about it with p-people you work with?"

Mike runs his index finger down her nose, bopping it on the end. "I'm not embarrassed," he assures her. "Tina, sometimes this happens. And still…if we _do _find a problem, we have other options okay? You think I wouldn't love a kid as much if we adopted it? We'd still be parents."

The tears start again then, but this time Tina's grinning and laughing and wiping them away as she throws her arms around him. "I thought it m-might matter to you. I thought m-maybe with your p-parents, they might not accept a grandchild that w-wasn't really theirs."

"It would be theirs," Mike disagrees, nuzzling his nose in her hair. "Tina, if we go down that route, it'll be theirs, and it'll be ours, and I don't care what anyone else says. Whatever the kid looked like – whether it was Asian or not, I wouldn't care. Me and you, we're a family, I told you that a long time ago."

"And whoever else comes along," she finishes with a watery smile.

"And _however _else they come along too," he promises.


End file.
